Deathless by Heart
by Jalen Strix
Summary: The continuing adventures of now-more-than-occasional heroine Sarah Williams, cast around a Koschei the Deathless framework. (This is Story Three in my Labyrinth Fairy Tales series.)
1. Prologue: Preparations

**Part One: Preparations**

 _In which Sarah gets ready for Jareth to drop by._

 _Author's Note: My great writerly love to Scarlett Foxie for the suggestion that led to this Koschei-the-Deathless-inspired tale._

* * *

It was Tuesday, just before 1pm.

I set the tea kettle up so the water would be at just the right temperature to bring out the frosty bite of the mint tea I'd found. It wasn't nearly as good as the tea I'd had last week, of course, but that particular tea had been an illusory refreshment in the abode of a god emeritus somewhere near the center of the galaxy. Back here on the humble mortal plane of Earth, I'd have to make do.

Besides, Jareth would appreciate the effort. It turned out that in addition to a fine appreciation for lattes, he enjoyed a cup of hot minty goodness as much as I did. The things you learned while drinking other decidedly more alcoholic (if still illusory) beverages in the abodes of gods emeriti and singing impromptu trios were many and varied. Especially if said drunken singing occurred after you'd just kicked the accursed ass of evil, freed an angel, gained a mantle of dragonhood, and made a formal alliance with both the newly named Falchion of the Winter Court (aka Jareth) and a god emeritus called the Blackstar.

It was, shall we say, a _very_ busy Tuesday last week. And that was just the first magic lesson I'd earned by boon of Winter's Queen.

I couldn't wait to see what was in store this week.

I was only half-sarcastic there, too. There was an itch inside me for adventure that used to be much more controllable. I assumed it was a side effect of either the magical pact with the Blackstar or my Blackstar-awakened powers (or likely both). Suffice it to say, such things weren't for the faint of heart.

Good thing I had plenty of heart to go around.

I twirled the silvery ring on my index finger, which had picked up a bit of luster in the last week since I'd been wearing it. It helped cloak my dragon mantle, which I'd been trying to keep a low profile about. That mantle packed a bit of a punch, tied up with a sense of muchness that filled my chest like molten gold in a forge, heavy and waiting. Maybe that's what godhood felt like - the Blackstar _was a_ god emeritus after all. Who knows what went into that binding I'd entered into?

So many questions. I drummed my fingers together, waiting.

Well, Jareth would be here soon. He was terribly punctual.


	2. Part One: Duly Noted

**Part One: Duly Noted**

 _In which Sarah begins her second official magic lesson with Jareth, receives a note, and gets acquainted with a magic ring._

* * *

At one o' clock on the dot, there was a polite knock on my door.

I opened it to find Jareth idly contact juggling some lemons.

I raised an eyebrow. "Lemons, your Grace?"

His smile would have lit the hearts of a thousand fallen angels. "What, did you think the mint tea would lemon itself, my Lady?"

"Lemon in mint tea? You heathen." The molten gold in my chest seemed to have acquired several butterflies that were fluttering their way through with reckless abandon. Damn, but that smile was something else. Glowing like the sun and clearly on _that_ side of wicked.

He looked as if he knew exactly what I was thinking too, the cheeky bastard. "I hope to sway you to the dark side in due time, sweet girl."

I blinked and found some repartee hiding behind the butterflies in my chest. "Better add some sugar to all that lemon, then."

"Sugar in mint tea? Pah. Now who's the heathen?"

"Well, you'd better come in so we can find out."

There was that smile again. "Delighted to."

I watched him walk past me, thoroughly enjoying the view. The man knew how to pick pants, and that was a fact. Grey with a light blue pinstripe, perfectly tailored to highlight all the right contours. And then, of course, those boots - purple leather, slightly pointed toe, and a full-throated opening that made you want to slide your fingers right in. Fluevogs, as usual. "How many Fluevog boots can one man own, your Grace?"

A knife appeared with a magician's flourish to slice a lemon as he sat down at the table. "Never enough, my Lady. We should get you a pair. One wearing and you'll never look back." He gestured to the seat across from him. "Won't you join me?"

I grabbed the kettle and sat down, pouring into our cups. "We?"

"Mmmm?"

" _We_ should get me a pair? I didn't realize we were at the joint wardrobe adventures stage of our relationship."

"Ah. Well, I'd say that once you've unspooled pieces of your hearts together and gotten wildly drunk with the Blackstar, things progress."

I steepled my fingers. "How exactly do they progress, your Grace?"

"The way Faerie plots must, of course."

"Not the way second-ever magic lessons must?"

"The two, in this case, overlap considerably."

"Well, that's fine then. This week's been downright boring so far."

He smiled. "Tsk, can't have that."

"Speaking of not boring, how's our favorite Summer Dragon?"

"I hear his angelic recuperative powers have done good things for him." The corners of Jareth's mouth turned down ever so slightly.

I cocked my head. "What? I thought he was one of the good guys."

"It's not so much that - though he's an agent of Summer, so good is relative when you're a Winter chap."

"Hey! _I'm_ an agent of Summer, thanks to you."

"Ah, but you're so much more." He flung a chiming thought my way. _And we all know it._

I caught the thought, letting it sing in the breezes of my own. "Fine. So what's the problem with Phanuel?"

Jareth's mouth was definitely set in a grimace now. "He's taken up calling himself Yggdrasil."

My eyebrows raised in question. "Unpopular choice?"

Jareth picked up his teacup, sniffed it experimentally, and added another squirt of lemon. "Seems a bit like asking for trouble, honestly. With a name like that, next thing you know, you wind up with a wyrm coiled around you, gnawing at your metaphorical roots. You'd think being cursed to dragonhood would have cured him of any liking for reptiles."

"Ah. I take it names and their mythopoetic associations are tricksy beasts."

He took a preliminary sip of the tea, holding it in his mouth for a moment before nodding and swallowing. "Lemon, I tell you. Unparalleled."

"Mmhmm. Back to names?"

"Ah, Sarah, always so focused. One of your more endearing qualities."

"And verbal dodging, _not_ one of yours. And don't think I didn't notice you use my given name just now, after all your previous warnings on the importance of appropriate forms of address."

He tilted his head, fingers tapping gently against his teacup. "And what are the mythopoetic associations of your given name?"

Aha, lesson time had begun. I tapped my own fingers against my teacup as I thought. "Sarah comes from the ancient Hebrew for princess."

"And what role in myth do princesses play?"

"Depends on the princess. Is she the oldest, the youngest, the one who caught the attention of a dragon, the one who the antagonist has his heart set on, etc. She could be anything from a main protagonist to a motivating love interest to a one-line mention as background."

"Let's assume we rule out the background option. You already have far too many interesting contacts to get away with being background. Besides, that itch for adventure in your heart would make you miserable if you tried to."

I blinked. "How did you know about that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You think you can take my heart and twine it with yours, have the Blackstar facilitate yet more mental linking, and, oh, by the by, enter into a three-way alliance with him and me to boot and have me _not_ know what you're feeling?"

I took a very long sip of my tea. "Fine, scratch the background princess option."

"Also, background princesses don't get personal notes from immensely powerful fallen angels."

I blinked at him again. "What?"

"My father sent a note for me to deliver to you."

I didn't think it was possible for a smile to hold quite _that_ much bitterness and scorn. I reached out to brush Jareth's fingers with mine. "He did, did he? Presumptuous of him."

Jareth sighed. "It's his way. Of course, he's usually right that people will do what he wants if he phrases it just so."

"So how did he phrase it to you?"

"Like this." He opened his mouth and sang a note. It was a luxurious rendition of an A that swelled and whispered in turns. As I listened to it, it scrawled blackened gold words in my thoughts that had Belial's essence infused into them. _I'm impressed. Let's talk. P.S. Your scales are showing if someone knows where to look. But they look better on you than they ever did on Phanuel._

The note tapered to a glittering finish as I stared at Jareth. "You weren't kidding about the note part." I pressed my fingers to my forehead. "First the Blackstar, now this. Does everything happen vocally with you big power player types?"

Jareth shrugged. "Well, Cal does like to gossip."

"To your _father_?" I knew the Summer emissary who'd accompanied us last week had a talkative streak, but still.

"No, of course not. But information is one of the main commodities in the Courts. Your new bardic tendencies are making the rounds."

"Peachy. What else is making the rounds?" I dragged a finger across the ring that was supposed to shield my mantle of dragonhood from all and sundry. Especially from people like Belial.

Jareth took a measured sip of his tea. "Why don't you tell me what my father knows?"

"What, are we in Socratic method mode again? You know I hate that."

"I promise you, this is a sincere request. What does my father know?"

I tilted my head at him. "You heard what his note said."

"Did I?"

"You sang it at me."

"Yes, and all I got for my trouble was an echo of consternation from you."

I took another fortifying sip of tea. "Just to be perfectly clear: you didn't get words in your head in his voice?"

His mouth tightened. "No. That was apparently just for you."

"How the hell can he manage something like that?"

Jareth shrugged, doing his best to mask his displeasure with the idea. "I have no idea. But clearly he can. He knows your mind well enough to attune his message to it."

"Could you do something like that? Make a message in a song that only I could hear?"

He blinked slowly in consideration. "Yes."

"Who else could?"

"The Blackstar."

"Who else?"

"That's it."

"So it's not a general skill."

"Not at all."

"Have I told you lately that I'm really not fond of your father?"

That brought his smile back. "Not lately, no."

"Consider it told, then. Okay, so getting back to what my least favorite parent of yours said to me-"

"Least favorite? Even considering my mother?"

"True, she was quite the piece of work, what with the plan to actually murder you herself two weeks ago. Your father was simply willing to facilitate." I snorted. "Some parents."

"Very power player of them, though."

I snorted my opinion of that, too. "Anyway, Belial said he was impressed with me and wanted to talk. Also that my scales were showing for those with a discerning eye. And he thought they looked better on me than our Summer Yggdrasil."

"Leverage then."

"How so?"

"He's trying to cultivate you now that Summer's dominant."

"And when did Summer become dominant?"

"When we saved Phanuel."

I blinked quickly as those dots connected themselves. "With Summer's singular base getting back to his ridiculously powerful and sane itself, Summer has the advantage over Winter."

"The downside to having Winter's power base more distributed, alas."

"So your dad wants to be besties with me because I'm with the rising Court? Seems a little coincidental."

"He never does anything for only one reason."

"Heh, like someone else I could mention."

Jareth's smile turned roguish. "Habits."

I grabbed a lemon wedge and squeezed a very small amount into my tea. "Anyway, so what are the other reasons I'm suddenly more interesting than dirt?"

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Your mantle, for one. You're not just _with_ the rising Court. You're its Champion. And you've got the Blackstar's attention. You've also managed some notable recent feats of derring-do."

"With your help."

"No one ever said heroes did everything alone."

I twisted the ring around my finger. "This is sounding more and more like protagonist princess material. Which means I should probably go talk to the big bad fallen angel and see what he wants."

"Probably the best course of action."

"So, uh, how do I do that exactly? Do I sing him a note back? Think blackened gold thoughts at him? Send a fruit basket?"

Jareth grinned. "A note would likely do. Easier to transmit along appropriate channels than a fruit basket."

"Uh huh...so do you know how I manage a note like the one he sent me?"

 _I do._

I jumped and looked rapidly to my left and right. "Did you hear that?"

Jareth was giving a very unfriendly look to the ring on my index finger. "Just the echo. But I can surmise." He narrowed his eyes at the ring. "You might want to keep a tighter leash on that. It can get...uppity."

I swear I heard the thing give Jareth a raspberry. _Spoilsport._

Jareth closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. "You should hear a story before you compose that reply to my father."

I recognized that tone. "Excellent idea. More tea?"

"Please."

Jareth watched the tea cascade into his cup for a long moment. "What do you know about Koschei the Deathless?"

After the last two weeks, I'd almost stopped being surprised by the fairy tale connections. You hang out with Faerie, you expect fairy tales. I racked my brain for Koschei material. "Nigh unkillable because he hid his soul away outside his body." I glanced at Jareth. "It's not you, is it?"

His eyes danced. "Why would it be me?"

I shrugged. "We've got this thing where your heart is mine more than figuratively these days, and hearts and souls traditionally get bound up together."

He smiled into his teacup. "And if it were me?"

I felt my brows knit together. "I don't think it turned out particularly well for Koschei. Something about killing him and burning his body." I took a very long drink of tea. "I'd rather it weren't you."

His lips twitched into a half-smile. "Narrative choices can be tricky. But perhaps there's more than one Koschei player available." He gave a meaningful look at the ring on my finger.

I think the ring might have hissed at him.

I held up my hand between us, letting the ring catch the light. "I don't think it likes you very much."

"No one likes their dastardly plans aired out."

"So what exactly are its dastardly plans?"

"To get you to unleash it, of course."

"Ah. Very evil wizard-like. Sounding more and more like Koschei all the time."

If the ring could have crossed its arms and huffed, I'm pretty sure it would have. _Look, it's no picnic keeping this dragon mantle of yours under wraps. Is it so wrong to want a little time out for good behavior?_

I glanced at Jareth. "Did you hear what it said?"

Jareth shook his head and the ring's silence was decidedly smug.

I arched an eyebrow at it. _Listen, you. Either you include Jareth in on the conversation now, or there's no conversation. Capiche?_

It grumbled at me. _Fine._

I looked at Jareth. He nodded. Must have heard it that time.

"Okay, so you two are vying for the narrative role of Koschei. Jareth, because I've got your heart, and the ring-"

 _Call me Burz_.

Something tickled at the back of my mind with that name. I made a mental note to look it up later. "Fine. And Burz, because you've stashed your soul somewhere else?"

It snorted. _And everything else. This silver prison is rather confining._

Jareth smiled and picked up his tea. "I wouldn't trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

 _Oh, shut up. It could just as easily be you in here and me spouting off self-righteous nonsense about who's stashing their brains where._

I looked at Jareth. " _Could_ it be you in there?"

"If I'd made particularly bad choices at just the right time...possibly."

I shook my head, trying to fit that into my current Faerie framework. "Enough. Back to Koschei. What are the core pieces that matter for our purposes?"

"Perhaps we should consult the Blackstar on this. He can fill in relevant blanks about Koschei if he's in the right mood. And he might enjoy knowing how energetic...Burz... is being before you officially reply to Belial."

 _Sometimes I really hate you,_ groused Burz.

I gave Jareth a steady look. "You and Burz have a history. And you're going to tell me about it sooner rather than later."

 _You tell him, girlie!_

I rapped the finger with Burz on it against the table.

 _Ouch! That hurt._

 _Don't call me girlie._

Jareth's smile held far too much amusement. "Mmm. Let's see if the Blackstar's feeling amenable to visitors, shall we?"

* * *

 _Author's notes:_

 _(1) The Fluevog boots Jareth is sporting are Headliners March. Google image search for them - I promise you won't be disappointed._

 _(2) Burz is "dark" in the Black Speech of Mordor._

(3) " _Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain" is purloined from Arthur Weasley in the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling._

 _(4) "Don't call me girlie" is purloined from Wendy in Peter Pan (2003)._

…


	3. Part Two: That Would Be Telling

**Part Two: That Would Be Telling**

 _In which Sarah and Jareth have some helpful conversation over tea and hear the good bits of a story._

* * *

The Blackstar, as it turned out, was indeed feeling visitor-friendly. " _Such_ a pleasure to see you both again. And so very _soon_." He made a motion to usher us in the front door, and leaned in conspiratorially. "I've been rather bored without you."

I blinked hard, still recovering from the vertigo of adaptive tessering. It was a fine and rapid means of transportation across unimaginably vast distances, and woohoo for space-time bending to our collective will, but it still left me feeling like someone had injected a batch of hyper fireflies into my vision.

Also, I think it still threw me that the Blackstar's favorite casual form for my viewing pleasure was a dead ringer for David Bowie, right down to the mismatched eyes. I'd get used to it, I'm sure. Just not today. Besides, there were definitely worse options. David Bowie was quite easy on the eyes, and never mind the additional similarity to Jareth's appearance. I'm pretty sure the resemblance was intentional. Interestingly, the Blackstar seemed to be sporting my dark brown hair color today, instead of Jareth's sun-kissed gold. Symbolism of some kind, most likely.

I shoved that thought aside as something to worry about later. We were on an intel mission.

I smiled brightly, a few firefly flashes lingering in my vision. "Lovely to see you, sir. Thanks for having us."

"Trust me, my dear girl, it's most definitely my pleasure. Tea?"

Jareth and I cast a quick glance at each other. "Do you happen to-" I began.

"The mint?" The Blackstar winked at us both. "It's one of my favorites, too. It's the subtle lemon hint that truly makes it."

Jareth grinned. "See, my Lady? Lemon."

I rolled my eyes as I walked into the Blackstar's abode. "Well, you don't have to be so smug about it, your Grace."

* * *

"So, what can I do for you, my little loves?" The Blackstar caught my eyebrow lift. "Oh, don't fret so about the terms of affection. After our delightful trio last time, surely you wouldn't begrudge me such a little thing? I do adore you."

I took a long inhalation of the steam from the mint tea in front of me, with its now-obvious lemon undertones. You denied gods emeriti anything at your own peril. Even when they currently adored you. I shook my head slowly. "Nope, totally fine. I just didn't...his Grace over here as a 'little love' takes some getting used to."

The Blackstar patted my hand, a curl of electric something rolling between us for a heartbeat, touching that seed of muchness in my core. "Give it time. Besides, from my perspective, everyone here is a little love. Adventuring princess, her wizard-warrior partner, her magical captive…" His eyes danced as they fixed on Burz, who had remained remarkably quiet so far.

Jareth nodded. "So the ring is still contained for now. Her captive."

Burz snorted. _Rude. Do I talk about you like you're not here? But what do you expect from a spoiled faerie, I suppose._

Jareth rolled his eyes. "Which one of us is currently captive in a ring, hmmm?"

 _That's right, rub it in. No manners at all._

"As often as I can, you conniving artefact."

The Blackstar's glittering laughter burst around us. "And you wonder why I adore you both."

I broke in, trying to steer the conversation back towards our main goal. "Does your adoration include a bout of storytelling about Koschei the Deathless?"

The Blackstar tilted his head from side to side. "It just might. Today."

"Excellent timing that we're interested today then," said Jareth.

"Indeed," agreed the Blackstar. "Most clever of you." His gaze dropped to Burz. "I expect that's what comes of making timely connections."

 _Just doing my job,_ said Burz.

"That you are," said the Blackstar, as he gently patted the ring. "And quite an un-fun role it is."

 _Nice to know someone appreciates my position._

I tried to corral the conversation back again. "Perhaps we'd appreciate his position a bit more if you told us about Koschei, sir?"

The Blackstar fanned his fingers together. "Ah, yes. The Deathless." He chuckled to himself for a moment. "It's one way to go certainly. Take your soul, your heart, your essence, what-have-you, and tuck it away all nice and safe. Easy to restore it if you need." He paused, sipping his tea. "Put it in, say, a needle in an egg in a duck in a chest buried under a green oak tree on the island of Buyan. If you're going to be traditional about it."

I let that sink in for a moment. "Buyan?"

"Traditionally," continued the Blackstar, tapping his fingers together, "it has the ability to appear and disappear using the tides."

I squinted at him. "Controlling the tides, huh?" A golden curlicue of thought poked its head out. "It wouldn't happen to be somewhere on Earth's moon, would it?"

The Blackstar's eyes sparkled. "However did you know, dear girl?"

I hummed to myself, a habit I'd definitely picked up from the Blackstar. "Tides. Too much of a clue to ignore."

The Blackstar rested his chin on his hand, his smile positively luminous. "You're getting terribly good at this, you know. You'll have a fabulous time with the brothers three there. They enjoy a good puzzle as much as the next wind."

I blinked. "Sorry, what?"

The Blackstar looked meaningfully at Jareth.

Jareth swallowed the tea he'd been covertly savoring. "According to the Slavic tradition, three brothers live on Buyan. They're also traditionally winds: the northern, the western, and the eastern."

"Ah. And I'm betting it's useful to consult them?"

Jareth and the Blackstar smiled the same damned Cheshire Cat smile.

I closed my eyes briefly. "Right. Can I at least have another cup of tea before we head out?"

"Of course," said the Blackstar. "And a proper story of Koschei. That was just a tidbit I told you." The Blackstar's eyes winked at us in luxurious slowness, first one, then the other.

I poured myself more tea, girded my patience, and settled in for a story.

* * *

The Blackstar balanced his teacup on his palm. "So, _a_ story of Koschei." He looked at me expectantly.

I finally noticed his phrasing emphasis. "Sorry, sir, but _a_ story?"

"Darling girl, you don't really think there's only one, do you?"

"Ah." This was a simple enough hoop to jump through. "Well, I for one am happy to listen to whichever story of Koschei you wish to tell." I leaned in and nodded solemnly. "I trust your judgment, sir."

The Blackstar's smile was positively blissful. "Just _adore_ you," he sighed to himself. "So, in Slavic tradition, the hero is often named Ivan. And this Ivan is the protagonist prince of our story, just like you are."

"Well, there goes the love interest princess option," I said.

"It's a fine enough role, I assure you," said the Blackstar, nodding solemnly, "but it's Jareth's role this time round. You see, Ivan meets the beautiful warrior princess Marya Morevna, and marries her."

I tried to control my sputter. "Jareth and I aren't married."

He waved that away. "Mere details. You have a formal alliance, don't you?"

"Sir, by that reasoning, all three of us are 'married'."

His eyes danced with so much mirth, my teeth ached. "Funny old world, isn't it? Shall I continue?"

I began to rub a finger against my right temple. "Please."

"So then, Ivan's warrior princess heads off to take care of warrior business, and leaves the castle with its prisoner in Ivan's care."

I glanced at Jareth. "More battles, your Grace?"

"Likely metaphorical," said Jareth. "For now."

"As is the castle in this case," said the Blackstar, nodding his head at Burz.

 _Downgraded from a whole castle to a tiny little ring. Did I mention how much this role sucks?_

"There, there," clucked the Blackstar as he patted the ring and my fingers both. "It's all for a good cause. You'll have some fun soon."

Both Jareth and I eyed each other at that.

"At any rate," continued the Blackstar, "warrior princess Marya warns Ivan not to interact with the prisoner whatsoever."

Jareth snorted. "Damn right."

The Blackstar balanced his chin on his hands. "Why, you might ask? Because this prisoner was held in check only because his power was starved. Emaciated even. But not dead, no. Koschei the Deathless could not be killed as easily as all that." He patted the ring again. "Evil wizard prerogative."

Burz grumbled. _Evil in stories is a matter of perspective, you know._

"Yes, yes, of course, my friend," said the Blackstar. "I know this as well as anyone." He grinned then, a sly thing that reminded me abruptly that people generally spoke the Blackstar's name in hushed tones of fear. "At any rate, one of the perks of being Koschei is that even in such a wretched state as that, it took quite little to revive him to full power. Just a bit of sustenance of the right kind, and he would easily break free of his bonds."

Burz sighed happily against my finger and then caught himself. _You know, it's easier if they don't know this beforehand._

"The warrior princess always does," replied the Blackstar. "It's Ivan who never quite believes until it's too late. He takes pity on the captive and gives Koschei a little drink, as the story goes. And a little drink is all that's needed to restore Koschei to power."

I could practically feel Burz rubbing phantom hands together in anticipation.

I pressed my lips together. _Oh, stop it. Now that I know, do you really think I'm going to up and offer you a drink?_

 _Hey, a guy can hope, okay? I've got jack-else to do, except reining in that dragon mantle of yours._

"With his power restored," the Blackstar continued, "Koschei escapes from his prison to presumably wreak glorious havoc on the world."

 _Or, you know, stretch my damned legs for a bit. Priorities._

The Blackstar leaned down and stage-whispered, "Glorious havoc sounds far more epic, of course."

Burz mentally shrugged. _True._

The Blackstar tilted his head, as if reminiscing. "In the stories, Koschei goes off on his merry way and merrily steals warrior princess Marya away. Captives do tend to be...vengeful."

 _That's right, bucko._ Burz cast his attention to Jareth. _Just you wait._

I rapped Burz against the table.

 _Ow!_

 _Keep the threats against my symbolic-husband to a minimum while I'm in earshot, hmmm?_

 _Fine, fine, whatever._

I raised my eyebrows encouragingly at the Blackstar. "You were saying, sir? I'm assuming protagonist Ivan doesn't take the warrior-napping of his Marya lying down."

"Indeed, no. A proper chase ensues and Ivan catches up with Koschei. Normally, this would spell immediate doom for Ivan, but Koschei is feeling some residual fondness for his liberator and offers Ivan the chance to walk away."

Jareth and I snorted simultaneously.

The Blackstar grinned. "Exactly Ivan's reaction. So Koschei, being a practical sort, shrugs, utterly destroys Ivan with barely a thought, and continues on his merrily ruinous way."

I swallowed. "Let me just say that I have zero interest in being massacred by Burz here."

 _That's because you're not an idiot._

"Right you are," agreed the Blackstar, though I wasn't entirely sure which of us he was agreeing with. Probably both. "But suffice it to say, if you happen to unleash our Burz and then cross him, there'll be consequences."

Jareth snorted into his tea. "Of course, that's likely why my father wants to talk to you, come to think of it."

"To prevent me from releasing Burz?"

"No," said Jareth, "to encourage you."

I blinked. "Why the hell would he want that?"

The Blackstar trailed his finger across the finger Burz was on, and a golden curlicue of power stretched like a fractal under my skin for a heartbeat. "There's a lot of power in there. Harnessing it would get you quite the power up."

"What about all the ensuing havoc? And that whole 'consequences if crossed' warning?"

" _Havoc is as havoc does,_ " sang the Blackstar softly. "It's all a matter of perspective. Besides, no one said you _had_ to cross Burz once he's unleashed."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Except the story of Koschei you're telling us, of course."

"And what did I tell you at the beginning, dear girl? It's _a_ story, not _the_ story."

I shook my head. "If Burz goes after Jareth, there's no choice." _You hear that, Burz?_

If Burz could have arched a sardonic eyebrow, he would have. _Loud and clear._

Jareth looked distinctly pleased.

The Blackstar leaned into Jareth and stage-whispered, "Isn't loyalty simply _precious_ , dear boy?"

Jareth flashed a smile bright as a sunrise. "One of our Sarah's many fine qualities."

I resisted the urge to smack them both. One simply didn't smack gods emeriti. And smacking Winter Court Falchions was also a fairly chancy proposition.

 _Isn't it lovely to be talked about like you're not present?_

 _Shut up, Burz._ I took a pointed sip of my tea. "So what happens after Ivan crosses Koschei?"

"Ah," said the Blackstar, fanning his fingers back and forth. "Well, there's the utter destruction, of course. But there's a loophole where Ivan can be recovered by other powerful magic users tied to Ivan by bonds of marriage. Traditionally, it's the husbands of Ivan's sisters. Here…well, I'm sure we don't have to look too hard to find a powerful magically-inclined type allied to you who also has your best interests at heart, hmmm?"

I held his blue and gold gaze. "Apparently not, sir. I'm willing to bet this magically-inclined type serves excellent mint tea to boot."

"A fine bet, my dear. Standards and all. So then, our hero Ivan is reinvigorated by his helpfully potent allies and, being helpfully potent, they happen to know useful things." He grinned at me.

"Of that, I have no doubt whatsoever, sir. Any specifics in Ivan's case?"

"That Ivan will require magic transportation similar to Koschei's to defeat him."

I blinked. "Because I can't catch him unless I have equivalent travel capabilities?"

"Something like that," muttered Jareth.

I glanced at him. "Care to elaborate, your Grace?"

"Alas," interjected the Blackstar, "the stories are...imprecise when it comes these to details. Some versions mention a horse, but you never really _can_ tell."

I sighed into my tea. "Of course. So how do I get my magic maybe-horse transport?"

The Blackstar hummed to himself. "Ivan traditionally goes to Baba Yaga for that."

"Uh huh." Baba Yaga was no joke, no matter what the story. "And who's the likely candidate for an immensely powerful magical being whose alignment is maddeningly unclear except for being opportunistic and narratively necessary?" I paused. "Excluding present company."

"You considered sending him a fruit basket earlier, I believe?" said Jareth.

Ah, Belial. Of course. He was properly terrifying, ambiguous, and apparently capricious. "Guess he's probably not willing to trade a fruit basket for magical transport."

"Don't worry, my love," said the Blackstar. "You'll come up with just the right thing when the time comes. That's how these things go. And as this story goes, Ivan acquires his magical transport, catches up with Koschei, and beats him back into oblivion."

"This is where the killing and burning typically come in," added Jareth.

My eyebrows knit together. "How exactly? Koschei thoroughly kicked Ivan's ass before. What makes Ivan level up in badass enough to beat Koschei this time? The magical transport? Overwhelming narrative need?"

Jareth smiled into his tea. "Both?"

"I wouldn't fret about it," said the Blackstar. "These things have a way of working themselves out."

"You keep saying that," I muttered.

The Blackstar blinked gold and blue eyes at me in a storm of mock hurt. "Don't you trust me, dear girl?"

"Of course," I said quickly. There was a tsunami of power behind his pleasant facade, and maybe all that hurt wasn't mock. No use taking chances. "I just wish I understood more."

"Ah, you will, I promise." He gathered my hands in his. "And after Ivan gets his Marya back, it's all feasting and fun. A proper Eighth Square celebration."

Golden curlicues of power slid beneath my skin, darting like lizards towards the heavy muchness lodged in my chest. With a sudden snap, they hit home and lay in quiet wait. Jareth and I inhaled sharply at the same time. It made me feel marginally better to know he and I were still connected, that I wasn't completely alone in this strangeness.

The Blackstar put my hands down and wrapped the right one carefully around my teacup. "Meantime, drink up. You've got winds to visit. Oh, and before you leave, humor an old man playing the watchful-magical-user role and take this with you? It carries sentimental value for me."

Something flipped through the air at me like a miniature dagger. I caught it in my left hand without thinking. Heh. It was a hairpin made of bone with a hole like a needle at the end, and it hummed with the Blackstar's essence. An answering hum ran like a golden current beneath my skin as soon as I touched it, in sympathy with the lizard-like skitterings in my chest. This thing was packing some kind of hidden heat. It wasn't nearly as ostentatious as the book the Blackstar sent us off with last time, but it clearly had something going on.

I felt Jareth's brief flare of consternation before he squelched it. He didn't know what the hairpin was either, but he trusted the Blackstar. And I trusted Jareth.

I nodded to the Blackstar and stuck the pin through an impromptu bun in my hair. "Be nice to have you with us in spirit, sir."

For some reason, that set the Blackstar off into gales of laughter. He was still chuckling to himself when he waved us off to Buyan.

* * *

 _Author's notes:_

" _It's all feasting and fun" and the Eighth Square reference are from Through the Looking Glass._


	4. Part Three: The Winds of Buyan

**Part Three: The Winds of Buyan**

 _In which Sarah and Jareth meet the Winds, learn potentially useful things, and make an appointment._

* * *

The adaptive tesseract we made to Earth's moon landed us smack dab in the middle of a picnic set up in a shady wood. It appeared the picnic goers had wandered off.

I blinked and took a careful breath. Fresh grass and running water, with a hint of fennel and lime. "Are you sure this is the right place, your Grace? It doesn't look much like the moon."

Jareth inhaled deeply, then smiled. "Perspective is everything. Adaptive tessering adapts a lot of things."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Use your Dreamer sight if you want to see for yourself."

I flicked my sight on and got an image ghosted on top of the woods: gray, barren rock and endless sweeps of dust against velvety black space, with the blue-green jewel of earth hanging lonely against it. That looked much more familiar. Even if there was that odd _flickering_ , like frames of a movie spliced in. Some of the frames had the lush woods and some had other things entirely, but the non-woods ones splintered too quickly for me to recognize them. "Do I dare ask how this works?"

Jareth grinned. "Short version or long?"

"Short. There are Winds waiting. Somewhere." I snapped my Dreamer sight off and began scanning the area for something Wind-like and consultable.

"Mmm...what do you know about superimposition in quantum mechanics?"

I raised an eyebrow, still looking for the wayward Winds. "This is the short version?"

"Well, let's put it this way: things existing in multiple states at once is a truism about the universe. Buyan - the moon entire, really - exists in at least two states: the woods we see now and the more familiar unassuming rockscape. Conscious perceptions get tuned to one, but adaptive tessering will tune them to another."

"Uh huh. So you're telling me these woods are always here but my consciousness typically filters them out?"

"More or less."

I shook my head. "Note to self: read more about quantum mechanics and consciousness."

"A fine plan," a bright voice behind me said approvingly, accompanied by a quack.

I jumped and turned around. The bright voice belonged to a man dressed in a thousand shades of green with a decidedly steampunk bent, including his velvet riding jacket, his gloves with their gleaming buttons, and his satin top hat with its riding goggles perched jauntily atop. He sat on a fine-looking motorbike that seemed to have far too many knobs and levers, as well as a duck perched on the handlebars. The duck was green, too.

He smiled and tipped his hat. "West Wind, at your service." The duck quacked again, looking vaguely affronted. "And Waddles." The duck look mollified. "You must be the Blackstar's lot."

Jareth recovered before I did. "Indeed. Pleased to meet you, my Lord. I was quite fond of your predecessor."

Some hard emotion shaded the West Wind's eyes. "As was I. Tricky business, all of this passing of mantles."

My ears perked up at that. "You have mantles too?"

The West Wind shrugged as he parked his bike. "Doesn't everyone?"

"All the best people do," said another voice, floating above the West Wind's voice like the rainbow film of a soap bubble. A teenage girl danced into view, dressed from head to toe in fluttering ribbons of blue. Her shadow was a sultry indigo that fragmented into opalescent fish. The fish swirled around her and blinked at me and Jareth with twinkling turquoise eyes. "Oh! It's _you._ Hello."

Jareth made a courtly bow. "My Lady North Wind. Lovely to see you again."

The North Wind's laughter pealed like tinkling bells. She grabbed Jareth's hand and held it up to her nose, sniffing it experimentally. Her shadow fish swarmed and then darted to me.

I resisted the urge to swat them away, but just barely. We needed the Winds' help and it never paid to be rude off the bat.

The North Wind dropped Jareth's hand abruptly and poked at the air between Jareth and me, tilting her head from side to side. "It's a good braid. It'll do."

I assumed she was talking about the connection I shared with Jareth. Or the alliance with him and the Blackstar. Or maybe something else entirely. I smiled tightly. "Glad you approve."

"Oh, look who's got a bee in her heroic bonnet!" jeered a sharp female voice from behind me.

That must be the East Wind. I turned to greet her.

Her crimson tailored suit looked like it was straight out of Neiman Marcus and was in stark contrast to the rural setting around us. Also, I had no idea anyone could actually walk in heels that high. Certainly not in this terrain.

The East Wind arched a perfectly plucked black eyebrow at me. "Tell me you drink espresso or I'll give up all hope for you right here and now."

Jareth smiled wryly and nodded his head to her. "Always a pleasure, my Lady. May I present Sarah, the Summer Court Champion. Sarah, may I present the East Wind. And we all enjoy a good latte."

The East Wind waved her well-manicured hand irritably, the vermilion lacquered nails splaying like poison daggers. "Fine, fine. Sit down then." She turned to an espresso machine that had appeared in the foliage behind her and began brandishing levers and small containers of things. The West Wind crept up behind her, reaching for a container of milk. She smacked his hand away without turning around. "I said sit down. That means you, too. Unless you don't actually want yours."

Waddles let out a plaintive quack.

The East Wind snorted and simply pointed to her right where the picnic blanket was laid out. Waddles and the West Wind headed over with equally chastened expressions. The North Wind was already sitting there in lotus position, the blue ribbons of her dress floating behind her as if pulled by some invisible current. She patted the spaces next to her.

Jareth and I looked at each other, walked over, and sat down.

The West Wind blew on his fingers, where green flames appeared before winking out. "So, small talk while we wait. It falls to me, I suppose."

Waddles let out a mournful quack.

"I know," agreed the West Wind. "Hardly fair for anyone. I'm wretched at small talk. But such are the obligations of hosts." He blew on his fingers again, focusing on the green flames. "And I'm best suited from our brotherly trio." His eyes flicked to me, waiting.

 _Okay, I'll bite._ "Why brothers when you're the only male?"

The West Wind held up his forefinger, letting the green flames condense into three stacked on top of each other. "Tradition. It began with three brothers and the titles stuck with the mantles."

I tilted my head. "I assumed the title was just the Wind part."

"Assumptions," interjected the East Wind as she placed a mug in Jareth's hands, "and _asses,"_ she continued as she placed another in mine. "You know what they say about those." I caught the edge of her smirk as she turned back to the espresso machine.

I sighed and sniffed my latte. It smelled divine, even though I was already over-caffeinated from the Blackstar's mint tea and my own humbler tea earlier. "Is she trying to provoke me deliberately?"

Waddles quacked ruefully and the West Wind smiled. "It's her way."

I considered this for a moment. "By nature or because of her mantle?"

The North Wind blinked slowly with a shadow fish hovering just in front of her left eye. "Both, of course. You can't assume what's not already in your nature."

I tried to parse the layers of meaning buried in that while the East Wind finished making the rest of the drinks, brought them over, and sat down across from me. Her eyes positively gleamed with snark.

When in doubt, be polite. I took a deep pull of my latte. "This is excellent. Thank you."

The East Wind's lips flickered briefly. "You're here for consultation. So start consulting. We haven't got all day and neither have you."

The espresso buzzed against my lips as I glanced again at Jareth and searched for where to start. He gave me a noncommittal expression. Great.

The East Wind rolled her eyes. "Useless."

"Now, now," said the West Wind, tapping his pointed boot toes together, "give them a moment. They're just being polite."

The East Wind snorted into her latte. "That's what I said."

Aaargh, enough. "We're here about Koschei and where he keeps his soul fragment."

" _Soul fragment_?" The East Wind laughed. "Is that what you're calling it?"

I felt my jaw clench. "What do you call it?"

The North Wind's voice wound gently around me. "Oh, it doesn't really matter what _we_ call it." She dipped a finger into her latte, pulling out a snowy layer of foam. "The East Wind knows that. It's just in her nature to bite."

The East Wind raised both her eyebrows and snapped her teeth at me.

Hmmph. At least she made good lattes. I drank more of mine and forged on. "We know it's on Buyan, and involves a needle in an egg in a duck in a chest under an oak tree. Do you know the whereabouts of any of these?"

Waddles nudged my fingers and tried to pull at a strand of my hair that was coming loose from my bun.

I looked a Waddles for a long moment. Waddles was a duck after all, possibly a she-duck with an egg. And the East Wind's smirk had gotten noticeably wider.

"Lovely hairpin you have there," said the West Wind in a helpful tone. "Waddles is such a nice girl for pointing it out."

I blinked at him as Waddles pulled at more of my hair.

The East Wind rolled her eyes. "If she were any slower, she'd be moving backwards."

"Not yet," interjected the North Wind. "That's later."

I looked at Jareth for help and he raised his eyebrows encouragingly. Okay, then. The clue-by-fours had officially been dropped. I brushed Waddles gently aside and pulled the Blackstar's gift hairpin out, holding it in front of me so the light fell on it.

The needle shape was more apparent now, and the end with the hole in it was definitely rounder than the other. I could make out small lines of filigree on the round part, which reminded me of the looping swirls of a Faberge egg I'd seen once commemorating Alexander III of Russia. Like those engravings, these seem to hold secret patterns that would resolve themselves if I let my eyes relax long enough. But they were so damned tiny. I closed one eye and squinted the other, peering more closely.

A malachite-handled magnifying glass appeared in my peripheral vision. "You might find this handy," said the West Wind.

"Thanks," I said, taking it. The malachite was wonderfully cool against my fingers and the glass helped the filigree lines stop wavering and form into recognizable shapes. Ah, there were wings, a beak...it was a duck. I blinked. Though I was no duck expert, it looked remarkably like Waddles. Huh.

I drew back and Waddles winked at me, thrusting forth the fine shimmering green plumage of her chest. Her plumage had a pattern to it now that I looked, with a sort of base and delicate lines like branches.

A suspicion was beginning to form in my mind. I looked back at the tiny filigree Waddles on my hairpin. Yup. Her tiny chest had a nice little oak tree emblazoned on it. I turned back to real Waddles and flicked on my Dreamer sight.

 _Holy shit, Waddles._

It was like staring into the endless curving infinity you get when placing two mirrors facing each other and slightly askew. Only here it was my hairpin and Waddles and Buyan, linked back and forth, each containing the other forever.

I flicked my sight off before I got vertigo. "At least it's all anchored here on Buyan," I muttered.

The East Wind's eyes widened with amusement. "Says who? You carry that pin with you, it _all_ goes with you."

" _We_ all go with you," trilled the North Wind. "And I do so like the twenties."

I let that non-sequitur whiz by as I shook my head. I had bigger fish to fry. "This is completely inside out. Isn't the needle supposed to be inside the egg which is inside the duck, and so on?"

"If you were being traditional about it," said the West Wind earnestly as he petted Waddles's head. "No one said we were."

The East Wind snorted. "You've clearly failed to notice that we're more liberal in our interpretations of things. Just what I expected from you."

I closed my eyes briefly. "Okay. So if it's all inside out, where's Burz's soul fragment, then?"

"Well, that's a question now, isn't it?" said the West Wind. "Depends on where the needle is. Seems you came in with it in your hair."

I put my head in my hands, silently vowing to do the magical equivalent of sucker-punching the Blackstar sometime for this. Somehow. The sneaky bastard. Sentimental value, indeed.

 _Oh, hush_ , said Burz. _It's not his fault. The needle would have come to you anyway. It's just a marker._

 _Explain._

 _Only if you ask nicely._

I slowly visualized melting his ring in the fires of Mount Doom.

 _Now, now, that's not very nice. Who would keep your dragon mantle under control if you did something like that?_

"Oh, bloody _hell_ ," muttered Jareth.

I lifted my head and looked at him.

"It's the mantle," said Jareth. "His damned soul fragment's in it. That's the curse on the thing. I knew our neutralization of it with Summer's Dragon was too damned easy."

"That was _easy_?" I asked. "I nearly unspooled myself into oblivion trying to contain that thing, and took you with me."

Jareth sighed. "It was epically cursed. We probably shouldn't have been able to do it, even with the Blackstar's power boost. So now there's fallout." His brows knit together. "Soul-fragment-shaped fallout."

 _Spoilsport_ , said Burz. _I was enjoying my secret._

The East Wind barked a laugh.

I looked at her. "I guess you all can hear Burz, too?"

"Always have, always will," said the West Wind softly, pulling Waddles onto his lap. "Comes of being bound up with him outside-in."

I sighed and turned my attention back to Burz. Now that I focused, I could feel the muchness of the dragon mantle curling inside me, surrounded by all those golden curlicues the Blackstar had added. And it was indeed a piece of Burz's soul. Yeesh. _This is just fucking creepy, Burz. It's like I'm a damned Horcrux from Harry Potter._

Burz arched a mental eyebrow. _No one asked you to interfere with Phanuel. I was perfectly happy keeping it inside him._

I snorted. _Yeah, but you were about to break him._

 _There is that. I admit, I do feel like I traded up somewhat. You're far hardier._

 _Uh huh. I'm not immortal, you know. What happens to your soul bit when I die?_

Burz's hum sounded eerily like one of the Blackstar's tunes. _One thing at a time. I've got some dastardly plans to enact and all. Speaking of, we still have to talk to Belial._

I let my head fall onto the hand that wasn't holding my latte. _Right. Of course._ "How do we let him know we're coming?"

"Sweet crumpet, he already _knows_ ," said the West Wind. "It was always just a question of when and where."

I blew out a breath. "Okay then. So, when and where?"

The West Wind blinked shadowed eyes, twisting several emerald rings on his fingers. "Always best to ask when it comes to Belial." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "He tends to take things _so_ personally."

"How do we ask him?" I said. "He just left a note, not a reply-to address."

The East Wind harumphed. "I see Jareth hasn't taught you anything useful yet. Completely unsurprising."

I felt my cheeks flame. I think some of the embarrassment was Jareth's, too. That really pissed me off. I'd just about had it with the East Wind. "We were a touch busy saving the universe last week," I replied coolly.

"And this week?" said the North Wind, standing up to do a pirouette behind the picnic blanket, twirling her mug with her.

I blinked. "And this week we got Belial's note." I crossed my arms. "And the Blackstar, for some unfathomable reason, thought it would be useful to talk to you all."

The East Wind barked a laugh. "At last, some spine! A bit of rudeness goes well with caffeine, don't you think?" She took a pointed sip of her latte, licking the foam from her lip. "So then, you know some of the Blackstar's tricks, yes?"

I crossed my arms, thinking. "Some. One."

The West Wind ran his fingers through Waddles's feathers. "And which one is that?"

I tapped my fingers against my arm. "The one where we get really drunk on illusory alcohol and sing songs that reach across parsecs."

The West Wind's smile was glorious as a sunrise. "That one will do." Waddles quacked her agreement.

Hmmph. "I'd rather do it without getting drunk. Can any of you help me do that?"

 _I can help_ , whispered Burz.

I pursed my lips. _Yeah, I'm sure you can._

"You should take him up on that," said the West Wind. "We're out of all the good wine."

I narrowed my eyes. "Can anyone guarantee that accepting Burz's help to do this won't be the magical unspecified key that somehow lets him loose?"

The Winds looked at each other and shrugged.

Right. I looked at Jareth. "Your Grace, I guess we're headed back to the Blackstar's to get drunk."

Jareth's face went ever so slightly blank, as if he were listening to a voice message. "Mmm...I think he's stepped out. We'll have to wait."

Of course. Sneaky bastard. "Any idea when he'll be back?"

Jareth shook his head. "He didn't leave word."

"How come you can touch base with the Blackstar and not with Belial?"

"The Blackstar and I have an arrangement. My father and I don't."

Burz piped up. _I have an arrangement with Belial._

"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered. "So you can just coordinate with Belial?"

 _Yup._

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

 _I was getting there._

I mentally sighed. "Fine. When does he want to see us?"

 _He'll see you now. Preferably alone._

 _What, Jareth is persona non grata?_

"Trust me," said Jareth, with just the edge of a growl, "the feeling is mutual."

I crossed my arms. _I'm not going without Jareth. Either Belial sees us together or he doesn't see me at all._

The Winds collectively sucked in a breath at this.

There was a significant pause, and then Burz cocked a virtual lopsided grin. _He accepts. You're both expected posthaste._

I let out a breath I'd been holding. "Alrighty then. So, your Grace...is there any way we can prepare ourselves before we see your dad?"

I watched Jareth's eyes doing their spiral dance of future-seeing, and flicked on my Dreamer sight for the tale end of it. Now _that_ was a sight. And definitely on the far side of creepy as all hell with those countless phantom hands the size of a spider's gasp stretching forth from his eyes, grasping and scrabbling into the ether before they all snapped back quick as a wish.

Jareth frowned and sighed. "Probably not." His lips twitched in a rueful smile as he stood up. "'Twere well it were done quickly.'"

I eyed him. "MacBeth before the assassination of the King? What are you saying?"

Jareth's eyes flashed with something unnameable. "Oh, you know - nothing at all. Tra. La. La."

Burz snorted. _You shouldn't trust him when he says things like that._

I shook my head. _Dude, tell me about it._

* * *

 _Author's notes:_

** _The Winds are very much inspired by the winds in Catherynne Valente's Fairyland series. Especially the West Wind. The Blue Wind also draws from The Sandman's Delirium._

** _The Faberge egg the engravings remind Sarah of is the Twelve Monograms egg, also known as the Alexander III Portaits egg. It is full of dark blue enamel and curlicues and beauty and you should definitely check it out on Wikipedia._


	5. Part Four: Forging Ahead

**Four: Forging Ahead**

 _In which they meet Belial, Sarah learns more than she bargained for, and narratively necessary things happen._

* * *

Another adaptive tesser later and we were walking through a very Slavic folktale forest, complete with trees made of shadows that seemed to stretch upwards forever, climbing lichen, and the occasional leshy skulking on about his business. It was far too quiet and felt like only a matter of time before something less friendly than leshiye would pop out and try to eat us.

Well, Belial was serving as our Baba Yaga. I suppose it was fitting. Baba Yaga wasn't known for her sunshine and rainbow ponies. I kept an eye out for rotating, foreboding structures perched on wayward chicken feet of unusual size.

That's probably why the sprawling Roman villa took me by surprise. Soaring Corinthian columns, elaborate floor mosaics, and a peristyle to die for - it was a gorgeous breath of sun-drenched brilliance smack dab in the black heart of the forest, and belonged as much as a diamond did on a horse blanket.

Belial was waiting for us at the threshold of the atrium, looking fairly sparkling himself. He was just as I remembered from a few weeks ago at the Winter Court - unspeakably beautiful, with ebony hair, sun-kissed skin, and benevolent eyes full of blue skies. Deceptive as all fuck, one might say. Also, decidedly not very Baba Yaga-esque if we were being picky about it.

Belial smiled at me, as if he'd heard my thought, and it was like being bathed in liquid light. "Shall I put it up on chicken legs for you? I admit, it doesn't quite go with my usual decor, but I'm sure I can make an exception in this case. I could also sit on a mortar and wield a pestle if it would make you feel better." His all-consuming-goodness aura blazed out like a supernova.

I staggered and held up a hand in front of my eyes. "Actually, your Lordship, it'd be great if you could maybe tone down the wattage. Easier to have a conversation for us lesser beings."

Belial's laughter rolled across us, and I felt the tension ratchet through Jareth. But the laughter was less overwhelmingly glittery than the smile had been, and the aura had sunk to tolerable levels. That was something.

I took a breath and blinked. "Thank you, your Lordship."

Belial turned his attention to Jareth. "Son, so good to see you, and in such pleasant company."

Jareth's voice could have given penguins frostbite. "Your Lordship."

Belial sighed, the picture of paternal care. "Ah, your Grace, I do hope you're not still irritated about that little fiasco at the Winter Court."

I smiled my best professional smile, shiny as a tube of toothpaste. "We're both a little wary of you, your Lordship. What with the trying to suck us dry so recently and all."

He waved that aside. "Mere formalities. And look where you are now."

"Indeed," said Jareth, focusing on Belial as if he were a viper about to strike.

Belial sighed again. "Well, forgiveness wasn't one of your mother's strong suits either, and I assume the Winter Falchion mantle only intensifies your natural inclinations."

"You know what they say about assumptions and _asses_ ," said Jareth, baring his teeth in something that bore only a passing resemblance to a smile.

I resisted the urge to elbow him. We came here to talk, not start a fight. At least not until we could be sure we could win it.

But Belial seemed perfectly happy to engage in snide warfare, and I watched as they both continued with their sniping. It was almost as Belial wanted Jareth to lash out.

I suddenly caught a wisp of something that reminded me of the previous Falchion's persuasion spell net. Only this one was geared more towards incitement, like a flail with barbs on the end. I started to make out more and more beneath Jareth and Belial's bickering. Youch. It was a wonder Jareth had managed not to physically kick his father yet.

I broke into the latest volley of veiled threats. "Your Lordship."

Belial spared a glance for me. "Mmm?"

"Please understand that I mean this with all respect: _Stop it._ " I saw my words slice through the barbed web of spell. Heh. Still got it.

Jareth blinked, hard, and exhaled slowly.

Belial smiled at me, completely unperturbed by my cancellation of his spell flail, and popped a grape into his mouth. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You know exactly what I mean, your Lordship. And if you keep doing it, we'll unfortunately need to take our leave before we've had a chance to properly talk."

Belial looked positively delighted with me as he clapped his hand together. "May I offer you both some refreshment then?"

I looked at Jareth. I didn't know the rules for dealing with fallen angels, but this was neither Faerie nor Hades, so maybe we were okay. Jareth gave me a short nod back. Alrighty then. "That would be lovely, your Lordship. Thank you."

Belial smiled as he tossed me a bunch of grapes. "It's always so nice to see proper manners in your children's companions." He turned and strolled through the doorway. "If you'll both follow me?"

* * *

I should have known it wasn't going to go well, despite the perfectly chilled limeade with mint. I traced a finger against the figures dancing blithely on the side of my scyphus as I listened to yet another round of deft insults. I kept checking, but Belial was keeping his word - no invisible barbed spell flails of incitement. This was just father and son in their natural state, having an extended interaction. Ye gods.

They were too alike really, as much as it would kill Jareth to admit it. Royal pride and reserve, coupled with a ruthless tendency to play nasty if it looked like they would win. I guess Belial had just had more practice at looking happy during politely vicious exchanges. Or maybe he just knew how to get under Jareth's skin. Parents were like that, even ones you rarely saw. Especially if some part of you admired them.

Belial broke off from Jareth to look at me. "Do you really think so?"

I blinked. "What?"

"That my son admires me?"

Gah. Jareth looked like he was choking. Belial must actually have some thought-reading talents.

"Or inside help," replied Belial.

Burz may have snickered just then.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and turned my attention Burz-wards. _You perfidious bastard._

Burz mentally shrugged. _Evil wizard role, remember?_

 _With a connection to Belial._

 _Mmhmm. That, too._

I focused my thoughts into a little hook wrapped in silk. _What's the connection exactly?_

Burz danced around my hook with obvious glee. _That would be telling. Can't give away all my secrets all at once._

I struggled to contain the fiery spiral of vengeful hate and disgust building inside me. Shit, that had to be runoff from Jareth.

I looked at him just long enough to see the moment of decision crack through him like a whip.

 _Jareth, stop! We need Belial's help._

His reply flared along our link like wildfire. _I know. I'm getting it._

What the hell? I turned to Belial and saw him smiling just as Jareth touched his shoulder and unleashed a roar of power.

Our bond flared and melded, my Summer power igniting inside Jareth's Winter power like Greek fire. It was the same damned trick we used at the Winter Court. The trick Belial had watched us do from close proximity.

I scrambled to rein it all back. This had to be the least subtle thing I'd seen Jareth do to date. _God, Jareth, what are you thinking?_

 _That some things need doing._ He slipped past my defenses and pulled the energy from me in great heaving draughts. Waves of something golden and massive gushed from me, amplified by those little curlicues of the Blackstar's surrounding the core of muchness at my center.

Belial's smile only got wider, anticipatory.

 _Jareth, you have to stop._

 _No._

"Goddamit!" I growled as I moved my hand to tear Jareth's fingers off Belial. I felt the golden curlicues inside me exuding a vapor, a sort of burnoff from the flow pouring out of me that slid across the surface of the core of muchness embedded in me. The vapor condensed into a delicate nectar which was sucked into that muchness with something suspiciously like a slurp.

Burz's laughter was a riot of triumph, and Belial looked benevolently delighted.

 _Oh, shit._ I looked at Jareth as I felt Burz surging through me, splintering in my blood and brain.

Resigned disgust curled across Jareth's mouth as he threw his hands up. _For the record, it was the most direct way._ The thought was tossed at me like an offering.

"What?" My voice was slurred, dragging behind my teeth as my vision bled to Dreamer sight, and then went _wider_.

"To get things progressing," answered Belial, who was sounding farther and farther away with every word. "It was indeed the most direct way. So glad you realized that, my son." I saw him put a hand on Jareth's shoulder.

Jareth shrugged it off and took my hand in his. "For the record, Father: Fuck you."

"Direct," I managed before my concentration slipped again. I tried to focus, but my perceptions were breaking, just as when the Blackstar had woken my powers. Good lord, it was like emotional X-ray vision.

The Blackstar must have protected me somewhat from this when it happened before. Simply put, human minds were not meant to hold this. It was overwhelming, like suddenly becoming omniscient. I could see too much, the filters of my mind crumbling away. I desperately needed those filters back in place or I'd lose myself.

Even as I thought that, I felt a sudden blankness as my consciousness drifted gently along the lapping waves of emotion and thought. Filter what? Which pearlescent stream from this unending river was I meant to ignore? And how?

I floated on my back, letting the current pull me along as I let my consciousness dip into the eddies around me. Ah, such complicated patterns, like mosaics repeating the same elements over and over again as they framed the larger picture, like keys around an intricate lock. I turned my attention towards that picture, trying to capture the whole of it. There was a whirling and rushing, a tornado of some kind amassing around the lock, shielding it behind a riotous funnel of power.

Something bit me on the wrist. It was a small thing, an annoyance really. I shrugged it away, intent on that grand sweeping imagescape that hovered just beyond my insight, beyond the storm. But the bite snagged my attention like a fish hook, and then it _burned_ , disruptive, venomous, slamming down tunneling shadows on my vision, crushing my sight into a swirling pinprick that was getting smaller and smaller.

I screamed, writhing and twisting against the force of it.

" _Sarah_." Belial's voice was like ice water, shocking me awake. I saw him take his index finger away from my wrist, the pointed nail glistening with a drop of my blood on the end of it.

I blinked slowly, trying to reacclimate to normal sight. I was sitting on one of the lounges in the atrium and I felt floating and disconnected, as if I was still struggling to settle down into my skin. My voice scraped softly out of me. "The _hell_ was that?"

Belial leaned closer to me. "What did you see?"

I swallowed and shook my head. "Too much. Not enough. Where's Jareth?"

A half-smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at Burz's ring for a moment and then nodded behind him, where Jareth was leaning one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. When Jareth looked up at me, there was a thoroughly odd expression on his face.

I blinked again as my eyes locked with his, resting on the familiar gold and blue. Relief was there, mixed with triumph.

Something had happened while I was out. I tried to lean forward to go to him but a wave of vertigo hit me and I was left with my hand reaching stupidly out as I collapsed back onto the lounge.

Something twisted in Jareth's face, and he strode over, leaned down, and kissed me something fierce. It was searing and possessive, his lips and teeth and tongue against mine, as if he would claim every inch of me, starting from my mouth and working down. My muscles tightened and released, a liquid heat spilling through me, and I raised my hand again, wrapping it through the cornsilk hair at the nape of his neck.

At that moment, something crackled inside me, a thousand tiny golden voices of awareness. _Not it,_ they said. _Not him._ And then I knew.

Oh God. Oh _God._

I tried to pull away, but his hands held my head to his.

I bit his lower lip, hard.

He laughed and let me draw back.

My breath came in embarrassingly short pants as I glared at the patrician features I'd grown irritatingly fond of. "Where the hell is Jareth, Burz?"

Burz's grin was pure mischief. "Oh, here and there. Mostly there." He loomed over me, one hand on each side of my face, his lips moving a breath from mine. "You won't miss him in the slightest, I promise."

I discovered then, to my great chagrin, that a nontrivial part of my attraction to Jareth was purely physical. I hated myself for wanting to close the distance between our mouths again. My voice came out low and breathy. "You're a rat bastard."

He grinned again as he pressed his lips briefly to mine before withdrawing to his own lounge. "So they say. Also, for the record, turnabout is fair play."

I didn't know if it was horrifying or bleakly hilarious that the mischievous light in his eyes was exactly the same as Jareth's. And right then I didn't care.

I touched the ring on my finger, feeling Jareth's essence buzzing inside it. _Jareth?_ I called. _Can you hear me?_

My silent words settled on that essence like snowflakes, and something more focused awoke. _Sarah?_

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. _You're still here._

 _Apparently._ There was a ghost of amusement there that made me smile.

Burz cleared his throat pointedly. "I thought we decided it was rude to hold conversations the rest of us can't hear."

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way his expression transformed the planes of Jareth's face. "You're still the bad guy. Rules are meant to benefit the good guys."

Burz grinned at Belial. "She's just precious, isn't she?"

"Quite," agreed Belial, looking at me as if I were a kitten who'd just done something adorable. "Precious _and_ interesting. An excellent combination."

 _Just fucking peachy_ , I thought to myself.

 _Now, now, no need to fret_. Jareth's voice floated through my mind. _We just have to move forward._

 _Easy to say. But what do we actually do?_

 _I'm not sure yet_. _Hush, have some limeade, and let me think_. _Maybe have a nap in the meantime._

 _A nap? Now? Here?_ I resisted the urge to rap the ring against something hard, even as I felt my adrenaline bleed away and pure exhaustion replace it.

Burz saw my aborted motion and smiled. "Looks like I'm not the only one who inspires you to violence."

I covered a yawn. "Surprisingly, you and Jareth have a fair amount in common."

"Not so surprising to some," said Belial.

I looked at him even as I felt my eyes drifting closed despite me. "What do I need to do to get you to tell me exactly why that is, your Lordship?"

"Mmm, have a rest and perhaps we'll swap stories after you wake up."

"Not terribly safe," I murmured, my eyes stuck closed now.

 _Safer here at the moment than many other places,_ said Jareth _. You're covered under guest-privilege._

I felt Burz's lips brush across the top of my hand and tried to shake him off.

 _Jareth, for the record, I really don't like these guys._

 _I know, Sarah mine. I know._

Burz and Belial's soft laughter chased me into unconsciousness.

* * *

 _Author's notes:_

 _Leshiye are Slavic forest spirits._

 _A scyphus is a Roman drinking vessel with two handles._


	6. Part Five: Into, Out, and Onwards

**Part Five: Into, Out, and Onwards**

 _In which Sarah achieves a variety of perspectives and eventually gains a trusty steed._

* * *

I woke up to Jareth's gentle whispering. _Time to move forward._

 _You have a plan now?_

 _More or less._

 _Uh huh. That doesn't inspire a lot of confidence, you know._

 _We work with what we have, Sarah._

"Ah, it looks like our sleeping princess finally awakes." Belial's voice rolled over me in a warm, benevolent wave.

"You can open your eyes now," added Burz. "No use pretending."

"Plenty of use," I muttered. "Spite."

"I told you she was hilarious," said Burz.

I ignored that as I opened my eyes. Belial and Burz were lounging in their own respective couches, the golden sunlight highlighting the contours of their faces. You could really see how Jareth was Belial's son. They had the same cheekbones, the same aquiline nose, the same treacherous curve to their smiles. Though maybe the smile was more about both Burz and Belial being so damned pleased with themselves regarding the current body snatching situation.

I turned my attention to Jareth. _Do we have time for me to try to get some information?_

 _Quite. In fact, it's best if you do. Go ahead and ask about Burz's background. It'll get things moving along._

 _Huh. Okay._ I stretched and sat up. "Is that offer to story swap still open, your Lordship?"

Belial tapped his fingers together one at a time. "Very."

I glanced at Burz. His lips had compressed into a line. Heh. Definitely time to press forward. "Maybe you could tell me the story of how Burz and Jareth know each other?"

Belial's soft laughter washed over me in a gentle wave. "Would you prefer the long version or the short one?"

"Perhaps the short version, with a side tale about why Burz doesn't want me to ask about this?"

"I do enjoy how direct you are," said Belial. "So refreshing."

Burz snorted indelicately and looked even more sour. "Heroines."

I pressed on. "Does that mean you're going to tell me?"

Belial smiled. "In fair trade...certainly. This was meant to be a story swap, was it not?"

"It was. So let's swap." I smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps you'd go first as a gesture of goodwill, your Lordship?"

"Please," added Burz, one hand pressed over his eyes, "or we'll be here all fucking day."

"Language," admonished Belial. He turned to me. "I promise you, he wasn't raised that way."

Burz rolled his eyes. "How would you know? You were hardly ever there."

I looked from Belial to Burz and back. "You're Burz's father, too?" I blinked, letting connections form in my mind. "I thought Jareth was an only child."

"So he is," said Burz, "for his mother."

Ah, different mothers. "So you're step-brothers. Well, that makes sense. It's always the step-family that's out to screw you in stories."

Burz inclined his head. "So it is. It's my delightful step-brother's fault I was stuck in that damned ring."

Jareth was notably silent in my mind. I directed my attention to him again. _Was it?_

 _From a certain point of view._

 _Oh hell, not that slippery bullshit. Did you put Burz in that ring?_

 _No. It was his choice._

 _Jareth...what aren't you telling me?_

 _Many things, but none of them important._

I sighed. _Fine, we'll discuss details later._

Burz's mouth flicked up briefly. "Confirmed things with my dear step-brother?"

I nodded. "Enough for now. Do I also get to hear why you didn't particularly want to talk about it?"

"That's easy. Would you want to be reminded of especially stupid decisions in your past, courtesy of your beloved step-brother's influence, which led to your miserable imprisonment in a wretched little piece of metal? No? Me, either."

I blinked. "Ah."

Burz snorted. "'Ah' is right."

"So then," said Belial, "that's our story part. Your turn."

I swallowed. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

Belial inclined his head just the way Jareth did, like a raptor sighting its prey. "What did you see when your human perceptions dropped away?"

"It's hard to describe, especially with said perceptions back in place."

Belial rested his chin on his hands. "Try."

I closed my eyes, bringing up the shimmering, shifting ribbon of memory. "A lock. A lock that spanned dimensions and...and realities." I concentrated, trying to find the words. "That spanned universes. With keys circling around it. And then a gathering storm like a shield wall."

Belial's voice slid across my skin with the silky hiss of coercion. "What were the keys like?"

"Like...butterflies. Sort of." I paused, reaching for the right feel of it. "Something beautiful and delicate that floats on the currents stronger than it, even if it has a goal."

"And the goal was the lock?"

"That's what it seemed like."

"Could the keys get through the storm?"

"Not that I saw."

Belial hummed to himself. "Good. And thank you."

I opened my eyes to look at him. "That's all you wanted to know?"

His eyes danced for a moment. "Did you have more to tell?"

"Well, no. You drew me out before I could get more."

Belial shrugged and smiled. "Necessity."

"The mother of invention," Burz said. "Or in this case, of narrative interest." He crossed his arms. "But onto more enjoyable topics - what should we do now?"

I pointedly looked at my ring and back up at Burz.

Burz rolled his eyes. "Do we have to? It's really unnecessary." He leaned forward, giving me the full force of his devil eyes. "I can promise you a much better time if you just let it go, Sarah darling. I know this place that has the best jazz you've ever heard. We could go, you and me. Dinner, drinks, dancing. We could have some good times together. What do you say?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Turn down the smolder, wizard boy. And I'm not your darling."

Jareth laughed. _Damned right._

Burz sighed and spread his hands. "Of course not - you're his, the lucky bastard. But a man can dream. You're sure you don't want to come out with me just for a little while? Jareth isn't going anywhere, I promise you. We can pick up this whole heroic arc afterwards. That place I know has some fine whiskey, and I can do a really bewitching foxtrot."

He was persistent - I had to give him that. "Thanks, but no. I've got my heroine pants on and all."

Burz's smile was pure devilry. "You could take those off. I could help."

Oy. "Subtlety really isn't your thing, is it?"

 _Never was_ , Jareth chimed in. _Hence the internment in the ring._

I shook my head. "Right. Speaking of, I have heroic priorities. Burz, you're a body-snatcher. Let Jareth's body go, please."

"And where does that leave me?" He nodded at my ring. "I'm not going back into that thing willingly."

"What happened to your body?"

Shadows filled Burz's eyes. "Not available. Thanks to my dear step-brother."

Well, that was a problem. "Can we get you a replacement?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"No. But there's got to be a way."

"Why?"

"Because...there just has to be."

Both Belial and Burz gave me the same fondly pitying look.

Belial spoke first. "Idealism is so precious, isn't it?"

Burz snorted. "So there we are. I've got this body, it'll work just fine for me, and I know you're fond of it. Last chance to come with me and forget this whole heroine schtick for a little while."

I sighed. "You know that I can't." Besides, I knew how this story went and the Blackstar had my back. Eventually.

Burz took a long breath. "Yeah, I know. But I had to try. I really do like you, darling. I'll say it again: Jareth's a lucky bastard. " He shook his head. "Anyway, I suppose we should get this over with." He sighed and made a sudden flicking motion. "Go keep him company since you like him so much."

And then things officially went to hell.

* * *

It was a vision spinning, nausea inducing, bone melting hell, and it seemed to go on and on. I'm pretty sure my bones weren't actually melting, but you couldn't have convinced my sensory perceptions of that.

When subjective reality finally stopped smacking me across the brain some unimaginable time later, it was very, very dark. The muchness of my dragon mantle was gone too, and it felt like the hole of a missing tooth. The golden skitterings of the Blackstar's gift were circling around an empty pocket. It didn't exactly hurt, but it didn't feel particularly good either.

Figured. I was getting precisely jack-all from my sensory perceptions, but I could feel that. On the plus side, I could feel my link to Jareth, too. We were apparently crammed together into Burz's former ringly prison.

 _In here_ , said Jareth, _it's all about what's beyond the physical. Sensory perceptions are illusions, and typical human sensory perceptions doubly so._

 _Thanks, sensei. Or do we have to keep up with proper forms of address even in here?_

I felt his amusement like a warm breeze. _This is likely the one place we can be afford to be casual. Enjoy it._

 _Silver lining duly noted. So, uh, how long do we have in here anyway?_

 _Funny you should ask. I believe we're being delivered to the Blackstar even as we speak._

 _How can you tell? I can't see or hear anything._

 _It's an acquired habit. I'll teach you sometime. For now, use your link to me to sense what I sense._

 _Right. Uh. How exactly would I do that?_

 _Use your imagination._

 _Erg. I'd hit you right now if I had hands._

 _Imagine that you do. And while you're at it, use them to grab our link and mold it into something that gives you sensory feedback._

Oh. Well, that I could probably do. I directed my thoughts to the feeling of phantom fingers, trying to articulate their length with my mind. With a snap, I felt my fingers in pins-and-needles outlines that faded into a solid perceptual illusion of ten beautifully defined digits.

 _Fingers, I have never missed you guys so much. I solemnly swear not to take you for granted again._

Jareth's laughter slid along the skin I definitely didn't have and still managed to raise a shiver along a spine I also definitely didn't have.

 _How exactly can you cause physical sensations when I don't even have a body right now?_

 _It's all in your mind, Sarah mine. Another trick I'll teach you sometime. Speaking of, how about our link, hmmm?_

 _Right_. I began flexing and releasing my fingers until I could control them enough to reach for my link with Jareth.

The damned thing slipped through my fingers like water. Figured.

I scrunched my non-existent forehead and envisioned the substance of the link as something on the border of liquid and solid, verging towards a claylike consistency on the bottom. My phantom fingers pushed against it, flattening it and rounding the sides up to contain the more liquidy center. Ah, there we go...images and sounds began to ripple across the surface.

 _A scrying bowl?_ Jareth's laughter was like a series of soft flicks against my face. _Who knew you were so traditional?_

If I had blood, I would have blushed. _Shut up. It works, doesn't it?_

 _So it would seem. Let's tune in, shall we?_

Jareth's voice carried through the Blackstar's kitchen with Burz's cadences riding along its familiar registers. I caught the end of Burz's last comment as he slipped the ring off his finger into the Blackstar's waiting hand.

"-so I suppose it's your turn now, sir. I had to try, though. Turns out she's just as heroically untemptable as you might expect."

The Blackstar smiled and closed his hand over the ring. "I might and I did and I do and I will."

Burz chuckled fondly. "You and your far-seeing tense usage. Just one more reason I enjoy our conversations so much." A chair scraped as he stood up. "But I should be off. I've got a date at The Cotton Club - Duke Ellington's playing, and I'm off to make the most of it."

"A fine plan, my lad. Cheerio!"

The front door had barely closed before I heard the Blackstar's voice winding along the golden skitterings he'd left inside me. _And how are you doing, my little loves?_

 _It's a bit cramped in here, sir._

 _Is it? It's all in your mind, dear girl._

I clamped down on my irritation. _So everyone keeps telling me._

 _Perhaps you should listen to them, then._ He directed his attention to Jareth. _And you, my boy? Ready to facilitate our dear princess's release?_

Jareth's voice hummed back through my makeshift scrying bowl. _I'm not quite sure she has everything she needs just yet._

 _Ah yes - I keep losing my place in this story. My apologies._

Time to get this rodeo going. _Sir, what do I still need?_

 _Just a bit of useful information, concerning your inevitable confrontation with Burz. Do you remember how we discussed the egg containing Koschei's soul?_

 _Vividly_. I could feel the tingles of the hairpin at the nape of my nonexistent neck even now.

 _When the egg is controlled physically, he's also controlled._

I let that sink in for a moment. _So I could have controlled him when I was at Belial's place?_

The Blackstar's laughter sounded uncannily like the North Wind's whimsical tinkling. _You were wearing it, but not controlling it._

 _How do I control it?_

 _Don't worry, dear girl. It'll come to you when the time is right._

I sighed. _Like last time with Phanuel?_

 _Very like._

 _Would you happen to have a magical item I could unleash at the appropriate time again, sir?_ That book-like container of the Blackstar's power had been handy as hell.

 _Not needed this time. You already have all you need._

 _I do?_

 _Trust me. Don't you trust me?_

Tread carefully. Here be temperamental gods emeriti. _Of course...I just don't understand yet._

 _You will, dear girl, you will._

 _I believe you, sir. Can I ask you something else?_

 _Do._

 _What do I do once I control Burz? Koschei tends to find his end by having his corpse set on fire. Do we need a literal reenactment?_

The Blackstar's fingers drummed against each other thoughtfully. _I'd suggest making him uncomfortable. Spontaneous combustion isn't strictly necessary, but it never hurts to have it as a backup._

Erg, gods emeriti. You can never tell when they're joking. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. _Do you know how I acquire the ability to set someone on fire?_

Somehow, that was terribly, terribly funny. The Blackstar chuckled for a good solid minute before he could answer me. _Dear girl, as I said, you already have all you need._

I stifled my sigh. _Right then. Thank you very much for your help, sir. Shall we move forward?_

The Blackstar rocked his head from side to side. "Mmmm, yes. That's likely best." He picked the ring up, giving it a practiced flip like a coin. "I'll just pop this over to Belial's then."

 _What? Why, sir? Isn't he on Burz's team?_

 _Jareth, my boy, perhaps you'd explain? I need a moment to concentrate._

I felt Jareth's voice wrap around me. _Belial's our Baba Yaga. He's on the narrative's team. And right now, we're moving the narrative forward._

 _Ah. Are we very sure he isn't on Burz's team?_

 _Well, as sure as we can be about Baba Yaga._

 _That's not exactly comforting._

 _No._

I sighed. _So the ring goes back to Belial because why?_

 _Because we need to bring it with us once you get control back of your body and we get a trusty steed from Belial._

 _Good to have goals. Speaking of, why exactly do we think Belial will give me a steed? And how do I get my body back?_

 _Baba Yaga, and princess narrative powers._ Jareth's amusement flowed over me like warm honey.

I blinked non-existent eyes, sorting out those two answers as I felt the ring change hands.

Belial thanked the Blackstar and cradled the ring in his hand for a moment. "See?" he whispered. "Things are moving forward." And then he slipped the ring on someone's finger.

I realized with a jolt that it was my body's finger. _Okay, now what?_

 _This is a princess narrative_ , said Jareth. _How do princesses typically get awoken?_

 _Didn't we already do the Sleeping Beauty thing last week?_

 _Good plot tropes never get old._

 _Apparently. So, is Belial doing the honors?_

Belial's laughter slithered over me. "Baba Yaga kiss the princess? I think not."

 _Then...Jareth?_

 _Far more appropriate, don't you think?_

 _True...but logistically difficult, isn't it?_

 _And why would you think that?_

I was speechless for half a moment. _Well, my body's out there, your body is on walkabout God knows where, so..._

 _Did you need your body to make the link to me?_

 _Er...are you telling me we can just kiss like this and I'll be freed?_

A distinctly masculine thrum of amusement flooded me.

 _Jareth! Why the hell didn't we do this before?_

"All things in their proper time," Belial said. "Besides, there were other components that needed to be in their right places." He tapped the ring lightly.

Ah. _Okay, fine. So...how do we do this?_

 _You remember how you made that scrying bowl of yours?_

 _I just imagine us kissing? Seriously?_

 _Well, it has to be quite *well* imagined. But yes, that's it essentially._

"Come now," said Belial, "don't be shy. We haven't got all day."

 _Jareth, do we really have to imaginary-kiss in front of your father?_

 _Trust me, I'm unthrilled about that part, too._

"Best get on with it," said Belial.

I sighed. _Fine. Uh, can you help me out at all, Jareth? This is a little...awkward._

 _I'll see what I can do. Try imagining the area just behind your ear. The more precision, the better._

I felt a rush of heat behind an ear that suddenly seemed to exist sensorily. The heat was just like a breath, focused and hovering above the skin. A shiver ran through my spine, which also seemed to suddenly exist again.

Well, that was promising.

I turned into the heat, and felt it solidify into a decided nip on my earlobe. _Feisty, Jareth, very feisty. But I'm pretty sure this kiss needs to be on the lips._

Another burst of sensation, this time just above my jaw. _All things in good time._

The liquid heat moved along the line of my jaw, just as if his mouth and teeth were teasing the skin there. I didn't even have to try to imagine that line leading straight to my lips. And other things quite a bit farther down.

His presence flared behind me, the supple strength molding against me and then turning me to face him with a suddenness that took my breath away. I still couldn't see a damned thing, but oh, could I _feel_.

I felt the fierce urgency of our mouths as they pressed and nibbled and sucked, my hands wrapped in his silky fine hair, his fingers tangled in the hair at the base of my neck, pulling possessively, as if we could only breathe when we touched. I felt every inch of my skin demanding to touch his, and where it did, a heat like fever, like sunrise, needful and cresting. I felt him, the Winter cold of him buried like a blade under all that heat.

And that's right when my eyes popped open and I felt myself lying on a lounge chair with a ring on my finger and Belial's glowing presence looming nearby. I groaned softly. "Goddammit."

"It was quite the kiss," said Belial conversationally. "Good to see Jareth keeping the family standards high."

I wasn't even going to touch that one. I sent a tendril of thought into the ring. _Jareth? Are you alright?_

The answer came strong and sure. _Perfectly. Are you?_

I sighed in relief and wiggled my fingers experimentally. _Looks like._

"Perhaps we might continue on?" said Belial. "I have an ambiguously helpful role to fulfill."

I blew out a slow breath. Tally ho, and all that. "Well, that's most appreciated, sir." I stared at Belial for a long moment, resisting the urge to fidget.

 _Ask about The Cotton Club._

Ah, right. "I think Burz mentioned something about The Cotton Club. Do you happen to know where it is, sir?"

"Mmm, _when_ might be more appropriate."

"Sorry?"

"The Cotton Club is a fine underground establishment serving bootlegged alcohol in 1920s America."

I let that sink in for a moment. "Uh huh. And Burz just popped off there with his magical time travel powers?"

"On his magic steed, actually. Or more accurately in."

Visions of Doctor Who danced blithely through my mind. "Please tell me it doesn't involve a TARDIS. Sir."

Belial's eyes danced. "If you wish it, then I won't."

"You're really not kidding, are you?"

"They're such useful steeds. I always keep a few handy."

Of course he did. "Do you have a nice quantum stable for them, sir?"

Belial's smile would have made the sun flare with jealousy. "It's the only place for such temporally temperamental beasts, don't you think?"

"Mmhmm. So, what might it take for you to lend me such a steed for my derring-do?"

He tapped a slender finger against his chin. "You mean, what might put the fierce Baba Yaga in the right mood, my dear?"

I held down a sigh. "Yes, sir." _Here it comes…_

 _Don't despair yet, Sarah mine. Angels are a quirky lot. Especially this one._

Belial's smile flicked up again, a flutter of sinful heaven that was there and gone in a blink. "Do you happen to play Zendo?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Logic game. One of my favorites. I'll teach it to you. Best me once at it and I'll grant you your steed."

I stared for a long moment, and shook my head. "You really want us to play a logic game for the rights to your magic TARDIS beast?"

Belial just smiled.

* * *

It took quite awhile. But with Jareth's help, I finally came up with a perfectly legal rule that Belial wasn't going to crack.

Belial frowned as he stared at the array of structures which either definitively followed my rule or didn't. "And you're sure the rule doesn't involve orientation?"

"Quite."

"You know that if your rule breaks the Zendo constraints, you immediately forfeit all chances to my steed."

"I'm quite aware, thank you, sir."

He steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. "I'll allow you to fold this round and try another rule if you perchance discover your rule doesn't quite obey the constraints."

"Very generous of you, sir. Now, are you going to guess the rule or not?" _C'mon, stop stalling. We haven't got all day_.

 _Don't worry, Sarah mine. The 1920s aren't going anywhere._

I rested my chin on my own fingers, mirroring Belial. "Sir?"

"Bah! Fine. Tell me your rule, girl. And it better be legitimate for all our sakes."

I grinned. "Okay, so you see the dots on the side of the pieces?"

"Yes."

"When you put pieces next to each other, you add the dots on them. When you stack pieces, you subtract the dots, starting from the top and working your way down."

Belial blinked and tilted his head, surveying the built structures.

"Red pieces of any size stand for an equals sign."

Belial tilted his head the other way, dark storms rolling across his eyes.

"A structure following my rule generates a true and legitimate mathematical expression. So, you see here-", I pointed at the structure nearest to me, "-three minus one equals two, plus another three equals five. Then the red piece. Then, on the other side a one piece next to a two piece and another two piece, for a total of five."

A hurricane was about to roar out of Belial's eyes and snuff me right out. And then, quick as lightning, he laughed, clapped his hands, and all was right with the world. "That is absolutely _evil_."

I blew out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, and bowed my head. "I try. With your son's help, of course."

"Well done. And I'll of course build this into future Zendo house rules. No translations into alternate systems of representation."

"Such a pity, sir."

"Ha! That's my son talking."

"Could be, sir."

"Well-played in any event. Speaking of events, I owe you a steed." He offered his elbow to me. "Shall we go peruse the stables?"

* * *

Much to my surprise, there were actual horses in Belial's stable.

Jareth's laughter drifted down the inside of my head. _Look through your other sight._

Ah, of course. I flicked my Dreamer Sight on and looked again. _Huh. They're still horse-shaped. Vaguely._

 _They do try to be accommodating. And I hear they gallop along tachyon roads like no one's business._

 _Handy._ I turned my head and immediately froze as the nearest one nuzzled my shoulder.

"I think he likes you," said Belial. "Don't move a muscle." He fished something out of his robes that looked like a luminous sphere of sparking, cascading white crystals.

I flicked my Sight back off, and saw Belial feeding my time-travel horse a sugar lump. He passed another sugar lump to me, which I held in my palm while the horse dutifully licked it up.

"That's a good boy," cooed Belial. "He's very fast, too. You chose well with Piper."

I gently petted Piper's nose. "I didn't choose at all, sir."

Belial's laugh was a sunburst echo of Jareth's. "If you say so. At any rate, Piper should be willing to take you when you need to go."

Piper whinnied in what I assumed was horsey assent, and tugged at my shirt with his teeth.

"Well, Piper seems to be of the opinion that there's no time like the present, sir."

Belial clapped his hands, and I found myself somewhat precariously on Piper's back with Belial holding Piper's reins. Sweet bajeezus, I was so not prepared for barebacked time-travel horseback riding. Of course, I suppose I wasn't actually riding Piper. That was just a handy human mind filter. Which I could turn off. I flicked my Sight back on.

Ah. That was better. I was sitting inside a rather fabulous structure that was a cross between a rocket ship and a victorian mansion. Filigree knobs glistened, brass levers gleamed, and crystal chandeliers swung in cadences that sounded suspiciously like a horse's nickering.

Belial stood next to me, his fingers tapping on a control panel made of glossy wood and gold leaf. "He's a very good steed. Take care of him, would you?"

"Of course, sir. Um, before you go - do you know when in the 1920s we can find Burz? A decade is a long time."

Belial smiled. "I believe he mentioned The Cotton Club - try mid-December 1927, a nice Saturday night."

"Uh huh. And how would you recommend I find that?"

Belial caressed the control panel and the brass levers there hummed with anticipation. "Just tell your trusty steed. He'll know the way."

* * *

** _Author's note: Zendo is truly a fantastic logic game, whose rules can be found by looking up "Zendo game" on Wikipedia. And our house rules involve a prohibition against exactly the kind of rule Belial couldn't crack, because it is in fact evil. That particular rule is due to my very good friend's evil genius._


	7. Part Six: Journey There and Back

**Part Six: Journey There and Back**

 _In which Sarah has a climactic encounter, a useful realization, and a very good foxtrot before achieving her narrative goals._

* * *

Piper did indeed know the way. Thank goodness for small favors.

With my Dreamer Sight back off, he looked just like any other fine black horse. You had to look closely to see the iridescent shimmer playing off his coat. I hoped no one would. I really didn't need anyone making off with my time-travel steed. I was pretty sure Belial wanted him back.

Also, 1927 New York was _cold_ in December. Thank goodness Piper was a full-service time-travel steed equipped with wardrobe options. I was dressed for the cold at least. The velvet wrap coat with its fur collar and cuffs was doing wonders at keeping the circulation going to my limbs, and my lace cloche was tucked just so over my ears. I surreptitiously squeezed my hands in my velvet gloves. The fact that they were lined with thinsulate was a little secret no one from this era really needed to know. I strode to the head of the line in my evening finery and put on my best doe-eyed look for the door guard.

He looked me up and down, decided I was pretty enough to linejump, and stepped aside to let me pass. Score one for the 1920s outfit. I blithely ignored the grumbling behind me as I stepped inside.

I could see why The Cotton Club was the place to be. It was a swirl of music and booze and buzzing energy. These people wanted to see everything, laugh at everything, and above all _move_ to everything _._ The fellow at the piano on stage was definitely the hub, doing wild things I couldn't even follow on those keys. I felt my own foot tapping right before a familiar presence appeared next to me.

"You made it." Burz's voice was downright luxurious, riding those piano notes like a caress.

I blinked, feeling very warm and drowsy and _free_. I swayed a little to the music. "Wouldn't miss it. Who's the guy on the piano?"

Burz smiled. "Duke Ellington. Fantastic, isn't he? He's the one who can play those foxtrots I told you about." He paused as the music shifted. "And here's one now. Could I interest you in a few turns around the floor, darling girl?" He offered his elbow to me.

My heart pounded, and I had to forcibly remind myself that this was _not_ Jareth. This was the creep who'd stolen his body, torn my consciousness from _my_ body like a rag doll, and was quite clearly the villain. Hence, the "darling girl". Jareth would _not_ call me "darling girl". Ever. Hence, not Jareth. Right? Right.

But the man next to me looked just like I knew, right down to that devil-angel smile, and I could almost feel those long, elegant fingers tangled in my hair...

 _I'll keep your feelings for my physical self in mind once we get this all sorted out._

The Jareth in my mind snapped me back to normalcy for a moment.

 _Jesus, Jareth, I'm sorry. I know he's not you. I know it. It's just-_

 _Shh, let yourself go, Sarah mine. You need to be credible. I promise I'll catch you if you fall too far. And you're so very good at breaking things that bind._

Burz's smile was all too knowing. "Sorted things out, have you?"

My cheeks were suddenly on fire. "You know what I'm here for. Do we really have to pretend?"

He clucked his tongue. "Appearances are everything, darling. Besides," he winked at me, "I still think I can win you. I'm a much better dancer than he is. Don't you want to find out?"

I stared at him, looking at those familiar eyes swimming with unfamiliar thoughts. Something was happening - I could feel Burz spinning something around us both. It was a lure, a glamour or a persuasion net or some such. It felt _really_ good, whatever the hell it was, with all kinds of subtle, tantalizing promises just below the surface and an unhurried lull wrapping my thoughts in silk.

Well, Jareth had said to go for it.

I took Burz's hand, and felt his fingers wrap around mine. My pulse sped up as he pulled me closer to him, and I had a sudden moment of panic. " _I don't know how to foxtrot._ "

His laughter rolled down my skin as he fit me into his arms just so. "Relax and follow me, sweetheart. I know how to lead." His mouth was suddenly resting next to my ear. "I know how to do so many things you'd like, and so much better than Jareth can."

That snapped me awake again. "You really have a chip on your shoulder about your brother, don't you?"

"Step-brother." His lips brushed behind my ear, sending electric tingles down my spine and that silky wrap back around my thoughts. "Besides, I've got time to make up for."

And then we _moved_.

It was like a dream of movement, the way our bodies connected and flowed around that dance floor, two as one in perfect timing, playing off those gorgeous piano riffs. I felt each and every point where my body touched his, and it made heat pool in my core and go far lower.

Burz led me into a dip, his mouth close to mine.

I looked up at him, flooded by teenage memories of a crystal ballroom and those same mismatched eyes laughing down at me, with that same hunger and want. There was a golden skittering in the corners of my mind and I suddenly _knew_. A kiss was the trap again, and I had to volunteer for it.

Figured.

I licked my lips. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

With a grin, Burz lifted me up as applause filled the room. "We're just getting started." He nodded at the band. "And so are they. Up for another turn?"

I tried to stop my bosom from heaving, noticed Burz's eyes smack on it, and decided to breathe a little more deeply after all. "You betcha."

A golden sparkle of thought chattered in the back of my mind about how someone could be set on fire with lust, and wasn't that _just_ narratively appropriate, hmmm?

Well. That settled that.

I let the tendrils of Burz's magic wrap me a little more snugly and flashed him a flirty little smile as the next song began.

His smile back at me was shadows and heat, promising unspeakable things.

* * *

I was floating. It was so easy here, so effortless. Bodies in synchrony, breathing as one, thoughts drifting like a sultry breeze. I'd lost count of how many songs we'd been dancing for. There'd been whiskey, too, and it'd been damned fine, a smooth glide down my throat that melted inhibitions like snow in summer.

Summer. Winter. Something about that, like a bridge…

Mismatched eyes were near mine, that easy smile stretched just below like an ocean sunrise. "What's on your mind, darling girl?"

I realized we were sitting down at one of the side tables now, tucked into a corner. "Hmmm? Nothing."

"Now, now, I see that furrowed brow right there." His finger brushed my forehead, then drifted down the bridge of my nose.

I caught his finger in my hand, staring at it, trying to focus. A tarnished ring was on my finger, nestled against his finger. My vision swam for a moment, and my head lolled back onto his arm. Too much of that damned whiskey. Or something.

Golden curlicues of suggestion moved from the base of my neck down through my shoulder to my fingers. They twitched with the need to _do_.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you can tell me." Burz's mouth was hot against my ear. "Unless you don't feel like talking anymore."

My words came out with some effort, golden skitterings moving sluggishly beneath my skin as I shook my head. "Don't feel like talking."

"Good." His scent broke against me, like snow crystals on forest branches. "Me neither." His hands snaked through mine, lifting them back against the wall with a tantalizing pressure.

He was so very, very close, with those eyes and that _mouth_ , and I was caught with his hands pressing against mine, and the wanting was building in me like wildfire. I inhaled deep, my face lifting to his in invitation. _So pretty...you are so pretty, Jareth…_

 _Sarah!_

 _Mmmm?_

 _Act now, Sarah._

 _Oh yes, gonna kiss you riiiiight now…_

 _Sarah, that's not me._

 _Hmmm?_

"Darling girl," whispered the man in front of me, "tell me you want this."

I leaned my head into his forearm, letting that smooth skin glide across my cheek, feeling his fingers sliding down my wrists behind me. My vision swam again, silken thoughts wrapping me tight as a web, and his mouth was _so damned close_.

 _Sarah, please!_ Despair dropped like a stone from that voice in my mind, forlorn as the dead of winter.

Something smooth and cold brushed my fingers near my neck, pushing between them with a curious insistence.

" _Sarah darling, tell me you want this."_ Burz's tones rode through Jareth's voice, velvety smooth.

Burz. _Burz._

With a golden jolt like a bite, my fingers grasped the cold, enameled surface of the hairpin and slid it out. In one smooth motion, I stabbed its sharp and pointy end right through the meat of Burz's right hand. "Darling, I want _this. Now back off._ "

The silken webs of binding popped like soap bubbles, and my thoughts were clear as an icy mountain spring as I looked at Burz's agonized expression.

"That," he gasped softly, "really hurts."

The hairpin pulsed with an eerie golden light, sending little spirals slithering beneath his skin.

I laid my hand on top of the hairpin. Each little golden spiral was a thread of command and I knew as sure as I knew the sky was blue that Burz was _mine_. Heh. Control of the evil wizard, check. I leaned in until my lips brushed his ear. "Hey, darling. I need you to do something for me."

"I am yours to command. Apparently." A dark desperation belied his wry tone as he attempted to wiggle his fingers and gasped again. "Too much to hope for mercy, I suppose."

"Sorry, but that's not how this story goes."

He grunted in pain as he shifted his hand again. "My role, as they say, blows. Not my fault, any of it."

"True, but them's the breaks. Now, swap places with Jareth. You're in the ring, and he's back in his body where he belongs."

He closed his eyes. "So cruel."

"Oh, please. You knew this was coming."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"I'm not asking. I'm telling."

He shook his head. "I won't fit."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You fit just fine before."

He sighed. "No, I really didn't. Remember that mantle and my soul bit, darling? And even then, it was too much." He swallowed. "The only way I can go in is to leave some parts of myself behind, to lose them." His shoulders sagged as his head tipped down. "Please don't make me do this," he whispered, his voice shaking. "They're good parts. Vital parts."

Gaaah, piteous evil wizards were _not_ supposed to be in the storyline. "And what's the alternative? We just leave Jareth in there while you stay out here? I don't think so."

He took a slow breath, his head still bowed. "Would you take them?"

"What?"

"Would you take the parts I have to leave behind?"

I stared at his bent head. "And do what with them?"

"Keep them for me. Keep them safe. _Please._ "

 _Sarah, don't._ Jareth's voice was hard with alarm. _You don't know what he's asking._

I pursed my lips, lifting Burz's chin with my free hand. "You keep your own soul with you. No more embedded soul shards."

Burz sniffed. "Agreed. And you'll take any other overflow? Hang onto it for me so it's not lost?"

There was a hook here, I just knew it. "Is it going to hurt me to do so? _Tell me true_." Glittering golden chords of command ran through my voice.

He shook his head again. "I don't know. It might after awhile. But you'd have some time before it did. If it did."

 _Not good enough. Enough of this — make him obey you. He has nothing on you now._

" _Please_ , Sarah," Burz said, "I don't want to die like this."

The word was a slap against me. "Die? Who said anything about dying?"

"The bits I have to leave behind are...important to who I am." His head drooped back down. "Especially if I have to hold my whole soul in that ring."

This was a bad idea. I knew it down to my toes.

 _So don't do it, Sarah mine._

 _But this is what heroines do. We are merciful. That's how you know you're on the side of the light._

 _The side of the light is regrettably short-sighted and is likely to get its arse handed to it at some future date._

 _Maybe. But we can look ourselves in the mirror at the end of the day._

Something suspiciously like a sigh came from Jareth. _Fine. Do what you must._

I tipped Burz's chin up again so we were eye to eye. "I'll hold your overflow for you. Now, _swap_."

Satisfaction flashed in Burz's eyes. "Done." And then his eyes rolled up into his head as if he were having a seizure.

Jareth looked back at me from those sunlight eyes with abject relief. " _Thank you, my Lady_ ," he said as he leaned forward to brush his lips against mine.

An unholy need ripped through me at his touch and I made it a full kiss, possessive and claiming. "Missed you, your Grace."

His left hand drifted down my cheek as his mouth moved over mine. "We were sadly interrupted at Belial's."

"Damn right." I bit gently at his lip, licking along the sensuous line of it.

 _Oy, I may be ill._ Burz's grousing was almost hilariously familiar.

I imagined smirking at him as my mouth continued its possession of Jareth's. _You're just jealous._

 _Damn right._

A catcall came from the table one over from us. "Woooweee, take your moll and get a room unless you wanna share, fella!"

Burz flipped me a mental smirk. _See? What he said._

With an effort that wasn't pretty, I pulled back from Jareth, my breath coming in short gasps. "I suppose we should get a move on then."

Jareth wiggled the fingers of his pinned hand experimentally and sucked in a breath. "He was right — that _does_ smart."

Burz's presence sparked and broadcast his thoughts so Jareth could hear. _For the record, brother: fuck you._

Jareth smirked at the ring on my finger that held Burz's essence. "History is written by the victors."

I squinted at him. "You really need to fill me in on that backstory between you two."

"If you like. Later."

Burz snorted. _I'll do it. Got all the time in the world and jack-all else to do._

Jareth gave Burz's ring a very unfriendly look and then returned his attention to his own impaled hand. "I think a visit to the Blackstar is in order."

"Mmm. Best skedaddle quietly then."

Jareth arched an eyebrow. "Skedaddle?"

I blushed. "What's wrong with 'skedaddle'?"

"Burz likes that word quite a bit."

I felt my expression freeze as I listened to Burz chuckling softly. "Bleedover from the swap already?"

"Could be." His eyes did that Winter Falchion far-seeing thing for a moment. "We should go see the Blackstar."

* * *

Piper was a sweetheart, and took us right to the Blackstar's threshold back in our own time. I flicked off my Dreamer sight, gave him a pseudo-sugar lump, and told him he was the bestest tachyon steed ever. He whinnied and nibbled at my hair.

When I flicked my Dreamer sight back on, Jareth had a bemused expression as he lounged in a cigar leather chaise in Piper's interior.

"What?" I asked.

"That whole exchange with Piper is a very...odd experience if you don't have the right filters on."

"You looked at it with your far-seeing Winter sight thing, didn't you?"

"I might have."

"Not gonna share what you saw, are you?"

"No."

"Well, whatever you saw is your own fault, then."

"True enough."

"Meanwhile, we should figure out our agenda before we head in to the Blackstar's."

He tilted his head. "You have something specific in mind?"

I nodded. "We should ask him about finding your brother another body."

Jareth's eyebrows made a break for his hairline. "Ye gods, why?"

"We can't leave him like this." I crossed my arms, sorting through the ocean currents in my mind. "It's not right."

 _You, darling, are a gem._

Jareth stared up at me, then frowned. "That Champion mantle is getting to you."

My lips twitched in a half-smile. "Lo, these are my heroine pants and I have them on."

Jareth smiled. "We really have to do something about that."

"Was that a not-so-subtle hint?"

"Call it, as you would say, a clue-by-four."

"Mmm." I yanked my thoughts back from the enjoyable holes they'd just zipped down. "Now about your brother?"

"You really know how to kill a mood, you know."

"You know me: heroine-ing first, then play."

"And this is why you don't have nearly enough fun."

"Says you."

"Says me."

"Well, you should plan to do something to fix that. And I'll plan to do something to fix your brother's situation."

Jareth threw up his hands. "Bah, I give up."

"Just till after this visit with the Blackstar. After that, I expect your full attention to the lack-of-play problem you noted."

"Is that a hint?"

"Call it a clue-by-four."

* * *

The Blackstar was positively tickled to see us. He did an honest-to-goodness jig while he made us all tea and, of course, didn't spill a drop because gods emeriti have _powers_ like that. When we were all seated at a three-legged table straight out of Victorian England, he turned his attention to us. "So, my dear friends, now what?"

Jareth offered up his impaled right hand. "We weren't sure the best way to have this removed. Do you have any advice you'd be willing to share with us?"

"Ah, yes! One moment." The Blackstar tilted his head first left, then right as if he were listening to voices we couldn't hear, and he looked remarkably like the North Wind for a moment. The blue flush to his shadow probably didn't hurt either. "Yes, I think that will do." He paused, the ruby red of the East Wind sparking in his eyes. "Your opinion is noted, but I doubt that's necessary. They're more competent than you give them credit for. No, truly. Have a little faith, hmmm?" He tucked his chin down as his hair flickered to green and his hands sprouted green kid gloves I'd last seen on the West Wind. "Precisely, old chap." The his head snapped upright, his eyes and clothes spilling to glittering black as he focused on Jareth's hand. "It's all agreed. Shall we?"

Jareth swallowed once and nodded.

"Marvelous." The Blackstar held out his left hand to me. "If I could borrow your right hand, my dear?"

I gingerly laid it in his.

With a single smooth motion, the Blackstar plucked the hairpin out with Jareth's right hand while pressing my right hand over the wound. Jareth's blood pulsed against my skin as the Blackstar twirled the hairpin twice with a magician's grace and pocketed it. I wasn't sure what my hand was supposed to be doing exactly, but the Blackstar had an expectant look on his face, so I waited.

Moments dripped by while, interestingly enough, the blood from Jareth's hand didn't drip anywhere. I stared at our hands, trying to figure out where the hell the blood was going. I could feel it running against my palm, but damned if it actually made it past my hand.

A squirt of adrenaline hit me at the same time as the obvious answer. "Um, sir, why is my hand absorbing Jareth's blood?"

The Blackstar clucked his tongue. "Just a little cleanup on aisle four. Don't fret, my love. It should only be a few moments more. You're far more efficient than you were before."

I chewed on that until the Blackstar clapped his hands and announced we could separate. When I pulled my hand from Jareth's, his flesh was whole as if it had never had a super-magical artifact stabbed through it. I flicked my Dreamer sight on for a moment, and saw a little glittering sigil embedded in Jareth's hand at the exact spot he'd been stabbed. It was a little filigree oak tree with an even teenier filigree duck in it.

The Blackstar must have noticed my expression, and quirked a congenial eyebrow at me.

I had to know. "Sir, why is Jareth's hand marked with the symbols Burz was using?"

The Blackstar patted my hand gently. "You can't expect no effect from carrying all those extra bits, now can you? Besides, oak trees and ducks are _quite_ unique. Everyone will know it's you."

I closed my eyes briefly. "But why is he marked at all? What happened just now with his blood and my hand?"

The Blackstar's eyes widened suddenly. "Ooooh, I'd forgotten. It's your first blood bonding. The first time is always so special." He leaned in conspiratorily. "Good to do it with someone you care about."

I resisted the urge to press my hands to my eyes. "But, sir, what does it mean? What does it _do_?"

"You'll both figure it out in good time." He blinked slowly at me, glittering black eyes full of secrets. "Let's talk about how you feel right now."

My thoughts were getting whiplash from this conversation. I felt the distinct urge to touch Jareth's hand and gave into it, letting the resulting calm wash through me and ground me out.

Jareth and I both exhaled simultaneously.

The Blackstar's smile took on a sharp edge. "Well? What's new, little loves?" His eyes caught mine expectantly. "Anything...unsightly?"

Aha, got it. I flicked my Dreamer sight on and, for the first time, looked inwards.

I saw myself as a city of towering fractal spires, spires inside of spires inside of spires. Wherever I thought there might be a straight line, it was just tinier spires with even tinier ones along the lines of those spires. I was very...spiky. And so full of emptiness in all that structure — any solidity was illusion.

 _Plenty of places to hold my extras, darling._ Burz's voice chimed through the lacey holes of me.

 _Keep your hands to yourself, brother._ Jareth's voice blew back the other way, pushing against Burz's presence and leaving me all a-tingle.

Burz's laughter breezed atop Jareth's. _Look, brother, no hands! Not here._

 _And you wonder why people don't like you._

 _ENOUGH_. My mental voice boomed throughout the spires, promising doom. It was a little more forceful than I'd intended. Which caught my attention, and I followed the echoes of the doom back to their source.

Said source was definitely new. It was curled snugly at the base of one of the larger spirey structures, wrapping in and out in an infinitude of complementary fractal patterning. As my attention landed on it, it opened one jewel-like eye, twitched a wing, and let out the smallest of fiery snorts.

Well. Looked like the dragon mantle was back. With extras. There was a glittery shifting of untapped _something_ swirling around my dark little interloper, and it smelled suspiciously of temporal maneuvering. Also, the area beneath my dragon mantle was a glowing miasma of shapeable will that stretched towards my attention like a giant, lazy cat. A giant, lazy, _volcanic_ cat. The explosive force buried in there was mighty.

This was a serious horde. _Burz, whatever have you been hiding?_

Jareth was a cooling wind at my back. _Nothing good, mark my words._

As if on cue, a sliver of something stretched from beneath the golden glow. It was hungry and wanting and aggressive, a slithering darkness rife with icy ambition.

I shuddered back from it and it curled reproachfully at me before melting back beneath the glow.

 _Burz, please tell me I didn't just hurt the feelings of your inner Sauron._

 _Well, technically, he's_ _ **your**_ _inner Sauron at the moment, darling._

Ye gods, why me?

Burz's laughter tickled through me. _Because lo, these are your heroine pants and you have them on. Which I continue to be grateful for, as these are some of my favorite bits. They're very powerful. You'll like them. Just give yourself time to get used to each other._

 _Nope, stop right there. There will be no getting used to any inner Saurons. None._

 _Quite right,_ agreed Jareth. _The world will be better off without any of that villainous nonsense._

 _Wooweee, brother. Pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?_

 _Shut up,_ said Jareth. _Sarah, I advise getting rid of that bit as soon as possible. It's never done anyone any good in the long run._

 _Uh uh_ , said Burz. _She promised to hold all my extras._

 _Promises,_ Jareth ground out, _can be broken._

 _Ha! Coming from you, that's clearly true. But our girl here, she's doesn't work that way. She's keeps_ _ **her**_ _promises._

 _ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU._ Whoops...looks like I had my vengeful goddess voice on again. I looked down and saw a shadowy ice tendril unwrap itself from a spire base, wave at me shyly, and zip back into the glowing ground beneath the dragon.

Sweet bejeezus. This was getting out of hand. I flicked my Dreamer sight back off and shook my head.

The Blackstar blinked slowly at me, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Anything interesting then?"

I let out a slow breath. "Just that I was right to prioritize getting Burz another body that can hold...all of him."

"Ah, you'll need one that fits just so then. Might I recommend a royal ball that ends at midnight, and perhaps a few ill-tempered step-siblings, plus, oh, maybe a fairy godparent of the wish-granting variety? You have all the best luck finding things at events with those elements."

I stared at him, trying to find words.

He clucked his tongue. "Honestly, it's as if you'd forgotten your mythology baccalaureate training entirely. I'm surprised at you, losing your head like this."

I finally found some words. "In my defense, sir, I wouldn't have thought bodies were that similar to glass slippers."

"Whyever not? Jareth, my boy, you really must help her lose some of these boundaries. Far too confining."

Jareth took a sip of his tea. "I'd certainly planned to, sir."

The Blackstar looked mollified. "Good then. Now then, my girl, did you happen to note the quantity of raw power now at your disposal?"

The glowing miasma beneath my dragon mantle flashed into my thoughts. I nodded.

"And you recall your prior skill with unbinding, of course? Quite handy with spells of all kinds."

Insight flashed. "Ah...so I can unbind in an epic scale now?"

"Quite. In fact, I wouldn't focus on anything's DNA too closely or you might find yourself surrounded by amino acid soup."

"That...is disturbing, sir."

"Welcome to godhood, little love."

" _What?_ "

"Well, that level of power pushes you solidly in that direction. You're probably at demigod level. But it's in the same family. Just a matter of degree."

My mouth hung straight open before I got control of it. "How do I fix it?"

"Fix it?"

" _Fix_ it. I don't want to be a demigod.'

"Whyever not? We throw the best parties, I swear it."

I didn't even begin to know how to answer that. My head was just shaking back and forth.

"Come, come, little love. You'll get used to it. Besides, it's all going according to plan."

" _What?_ What plan? Whose plan?"

"I'm afraid that's privileged information. Godhood level." His eyes glittered. "Interested in leveling up to get it?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way, sir, but hell no."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. And shall we plan on next Tuesday?"

"Plan on next Tuesday for what, sir?"

"You don't think royal balls throw themselves, do you? Unless you weren't serious about finding another vessel for our dear friend."

Black tendrils slithered in my thoughts. "Oh no. I'm very serious." I glanced at Jareth. "We're all very serious."

"Good then. Next Tuesday. You bring the scones, and I'll supply the tea and logistical coordination."

Right. Well, as they say, in for a penny. "Sounds very good, sir. Thank you for your assistance. Did you have a preferred scone type?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something appropriate, three smart feylings like you. I leave myself in your collective capable hands."

Feylings?...nope. There were some things you just had to let go. "Thank you, sir. We'll do our best not to disappoint."

"Sweet girl, you never do."

* * *

 _Author's note: And that seems as good a spot as any to close this story out. Thanks to everyone who's given me such lovely comments throughout - you're so inspiring!_


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